Second Time Unlucky
by Gamemaker97
Summary: The 66th Annual Hunger Games are about to begin, it's the day that they all hate. Reaping day. Last year, Ludovic Robertson of District 4 was spared when his best friend volunteered for him at the reaping. This year, he's on his own...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This story is very strongly based on the original book, 'The Hunger Games' by Suzanne Collins, and this is the story of another tribute, chosen to compete in the games. I know that this is very similar in structure to the original book (there will eventually be 27 chapters), but it's meant to be. With the exception of a couple of characters (most notably Finnick), everyone is of my own creation, just added to Suzanne Collins' universe.**

**P.S. not all author's notes will be as long as this :)**

* * *

**Prologue**

I hit the ground, and the harsh grit digs into my back and cuts me under my shoulder blades. My head hits the ground hard, leaving me senseless for a few moments before the pain pulsates through my body from my injured leg. Only then does the fear return, and with it comes the imminent threat of Quintus. I try to get to my feet and run, but my legs are rooted to the spot in fear and won't go anywhere. Quickly Quintus is upon me, his tall, athletic figure silhouetted by the sun. But I can still see the bow.

Even though I'm paralysed with fear, I manage to force a small uttering as he trains his weapon on me.

"Give Finnick my regards, will you?"

* * *

**Pt. I- Fear**

**Chapter One**

**POV: Ludovic Robertson (15), District 4 Citizen**

**11 Seaway Lane, District 4**

**7.30 am, Sunday 8th July, year of the 66th Hunger Games**

* * *

I wake with a start, to hear knocks on the door. From light filtering in through the thin curtains, I can tell it's not long after dawn. I'm amazed I've slept soundly through to dawn. It's the day of the Reaping; I was expecting to wake with a sweat, shocked to the bone. But no nightmares tonight, surprisingly.

The house sounds empty. I guess from the time that my parents are out. I can remember that they left in early light last year. They're probably walking the coastal paths, clearing their minds. They have done at every other Reaping I can remember, since Bella was twelve. I don't recall Reapings before then. But that was the 59th Games; I can't even remember who won. It might have been that twin from One. I see the face in my mind, but the name doesn't present itself. Never mind, I've only just woken up.

I turn over in bed to stare at the clock on my bedside table. Seven-thirty. It's later than I thought. The sun's already been up over two hours. Past the clock, I see two photographs, something that mark our family out as wealthy among my district. They might be grainy and monotone, but they are photographs nonetheless. Both were taken out in the bay last summer, the day before the Reaping. It seems too long ago, I still remember the day so clearly. A picnic on the beach, frolicking in the sea. My family and best friends. Making the most of possibly our last day together in District 4. One photograph shows my family; me, mother, father and Bella. The other shows my best friend and myself. I'm glad he was smiling. I hope he enjoyed what we hoped wouldn't be his last day at home.

The repeated knocking at the door reminds me that I'm keeping somebody waiting. I clamber out of bed, clothe myself, and have time to check my hair in a mirror before answering the door. I'm unlucky. It's one of those days when whatever I try won't flatten it. Brilliant. Now if I'm picked in the reaping, I'll be carted off to the Capitol looking like I don't care for myself, let alone anyone else.

I push the Reaping to the back of my mind as I open the heavy oak door to whoever it might be that has come knocking.

I'm greeted at first by the fresh sea breeze that wafts in off the bay, but at least this is followed by a familiar face. You'd never have guessed the tall, muscular person in front of me had only just turned fifteen. And yet he has experienced more in his fifteen years than many others in District 4 would in a lifetime.

All of Panem would recognise the mop of bronze hair and playful look in those sea-green eyes, those eyes that belong to Finnick Odair.

Finnick and me have been inseparable for as long as I can care to remember, living a life of relative comfort and enjoyment, with not a care in the world. Coming from well-off families in our district, we've never had much cause for concern in our lives, unlike the working men and women in the docklands, who battle to keep food on the table and a roof over their heads every day.

In the better-off areas of our district, in the houses owned by peacekeepers, the owners of the fishing fleet and other important businessmen, poverty and starvation are neither a reality nor a topic of conversation. But the children see it in the docklands kids at school; they notice the weedy, pale bodies of the famished kids they share a classroom with, whilst the parents turn a blind eye.

So me and Finnick go to school five days a week, and live the weekends doing what we want, in a life of relative leisure. We fish together on Sundays, so we can learn the trades to take the roles of our fathers for when it is our turn to be the breadwinners of our own families.

Although it is illegal to fish in the bay where the expensive houses of District 4 are, the peacekeepers turn a blind eye to it, as a few haddock mean nothing to them compared to the crime and suffering in the docklands.  
Also, it helps that Finnick's father is friendly with the head peacekeeper. As head of the fishing fleet, almost all trade for District 4 is the responsibility of him, as fishing is District 4's export to the Capitol.

My father runs the Fish Market down in the heart of the docklands, and is a well known figure in the lower parts of the district. My mother used to work on the tills in the grocery, before she married my father and gave birth to my sister. Now aged nineteen and off in the Capitol becoming a fashion stylist, my sister Bella stopped mother from working, leaving my father to be the sole income for the family.

But it has been enough for my family to never have needed tesserae, something I am thankful for on a day like this. Neither have Finnick's family, though that didn't stop him becoming a part of the Capitol's sadistic games.

I remember the year before, standing in the wind and the rain in the town square with the other twelve thousand people of District 4 for the Reaping.

I remember the pots of names, thousands of names, which would be read out by the district's escort, a middle-aged man called Flavius, whose surname I can't remember. The motto of the Hunger Games is 'may the odds be ever in your favour', and it was true for me that day. With thousands of slips of paper in the boy's bowl, only three of them read 'Ludovic Robertson'. I stood next to Finnick, who also had the same number of entries as me. I would never forget our agreement, that if my name was chosen in the reaping, Finnick would volunteer for me. I would stand little chance in the arena (a small, thin boy of fourteen) when faced with the giants who would likely be competing for the other 'competitive districts', 1 and 2. Most likely the Victor of the 65th Hunger Games would be from one of those districts or our own- it usually is. The girl from Two won the previous games.

But I would struggle to defeat the other 'Competitor' tributes, as they are called in our district. All the outlying districts just call them the 'Career' tributes, or just the 'Careers'. Slowly everyone in Four is calling our tributes 'Careers' as well. I guess I should get used to the change.

So Finnick, who could pass for an adult even at fourteen, would volunteer for me. He had been trained for it by me, as he felt obliged to protect his friend. He knew how to survive; what plants are edible, how to build shelters, basics in first aid, how to hunt, and basic weapons training in knives and bows. He already knew how to use spears and tridents to his advantage; he has them at home in District 4. But he had a much better chance of surviving than me.

And so, after a long and forgettable speech about the Dark Days and the creation of the Hunger Games (it was the same every year), the name of the male tribute from District 4 was pulled out of the pot.

"Ludovic Robertson."

I don't remember how I reacted, I've tried so hard to block the next two hours from my head. All I clearly remember is my time with Finnick in the allotted hour assigned for people to say goodbye to the tributes. I remember walking up to him, seeing him turn, noticing the sad yet proud expression on his face, happy he had saved his friend.

I tried to talk to him, but my throat couldn't produce words. We were on the balcony at the back of the Justice Building, which claimed exclusive sea views across the natural bays on the pleasant side of District 4.  
In the end, I only managed two words to him before I broke down into tears.

"I'm sorry."

I spent my last twenty minutes with Finnick staring out to sea with him, both of us crying.  
And then he was gone.

I watched the games (we all had to, of course) but for once I was genuinely caring who the winner was. We all saw Finnick riding into the Training Centre in a simple blue tunic holding a trident, the interview with Caesar Flickermann, the '9' in training. And then the games started.  
He surprised us all.

He didn't throw his weight around at the beginning, just ran quickly to the cornucopia, grabbed a couple of rucksacks, and sprinted away again into the forests. That was all anyone saw of him for days. He didn't try to attack anyone, just stayed alive. The arena was down to fifteen tributes by the end of the first day. Then eleven. Nine. Eight. Still no intention of fighting.

That was when I realised he was weaponless. His packs had been kind to him, he had everything he needed to survive, but the best hope of killing someone would be to suffocate them with his sleeping bag. Not very likely. His plan was suddenly obvious; to sit out the storm and hope all the tributes kill each other off or die of thirst or starvation, or some gamemaker trap. This was such an unexpected strategy. Being from District 4 and having the second highest training score would have guaranteed him alliances with the other Career tributes, but no. For some reason, Finnick was on his own. But with no plan of action, and no means of defence.

Now the only way of him getting weapons would be from sponsors. I remember realising this, and realising that after Finnick risked his life for me, I could save his. He had his own weapons at home. All I needed to do was send them to him.

I was at school the next day asking for donations towards paying for his trident to be sent to the Capitol next day when I became aware of what people really thought about Finnick volunteering for me. Many thought he had done the right thing; he had been trained for it, and was much more likely to survive the arena than I would have been. Others thought he didn't care for me, that he just wanted an excuse to take all the glory. If they'd have seen us crying, they'd have understood. But no. Others called me a coward. Asking a friend, not even family, for help. But I have no brothers; the shallow people at school obviously didn't know this.

But they all changed their minds during the lunch-time update. Highlights from the morning showed us that Finnick had been spotted by the male tribute from District 7, who had shot at him with a bow and arrow. Injured with an arrow in his knee, Finnick managed the luckiest kill I have ever seen in the arena. He managed to confront the tribute head on, and largely due to the fact the tribute ran out of arrows, he avoided the bow's threat. Now both boys were unarmed, Finnick had the edge in hand-to-hand combat, and ended up finishing the tribute by pulling the arrow out of his knee and ramming it through the other boy's throat. But it was clear to everyone at school that I was right. Finnick needed a weapon. I had already convinced many to donate, mainly girls (he was a heartthrob to most at school) and those who hadn't previously been convinced even those who called me coward, were now eager to help. The trident was sent to the Capitol the following morning.

Over the next three days, all of Panem watched Finnick use some nets he had woven and his new trident to wipe out the five Career tributes, and hunt down the one remaining survivor, a thirteen year old girl from District 10, and finish her off, too. Yes, he had been brutal, and yes, what he had done was horrific, but I didn't care. His games were quick; only 10 days long. My nerves had coped, as had he in the arena. He was home the next week.

And now we are back where we were. July the eighth. The day of the Reaping. I would do the same as last year; treat the day as though it was my last on earth. At least until two in the afternoon. And Finnick would be here with me, just like the last three years.

Only this time, I'm scared for myself. I can't ask Finnick to risk his life for me twice. That would be too much even for a best friend. Even if I could. But I can't. Finnick is a Victor now, living a life of luxury in Victor's Village. Aside from the large house to live in and endless food for a lifetime, the final reward of a Victor is that their name will not be in the pot at the Reaping. As he will not be eligible to volunteer for me, and I have no brothers to volunteer for me either, if my name is brought out of the pot, I'll end up in the arena a week later. End of.  
But for now, let's think of the nicer things in life.

"Nice weather," says Finnick as I come out to meet him.

He's right. Even in the early hours of the day, I can tell it'll be a nice one.  
"Couldn't be better," I say. There's barely a cloud in the sky. In the cool hours before the sun rises high in the sky, I want to enjoy our district. See the sights, so to speak. And be with Finnick. Just for the laughter. The smiles. The good times, the fun, the place of belonging. As the sun starts to rise over the sea in the east we walk along the sandy beach in the bay, skimming stones into the placid waves.

It's a good day for skimming stones, there's barely any wind so the waves are calm. Still, I have a bad day. My best is seven skims, to Finnick's sixteen. I blame it on the nerves. Then I remember why I feel nervous, and suddenly stone skimming isn't so important anymore.

And suddenly I feel worried. Afraid. The reaping is a very real danger to all of us. Except Finnick. He has never really spoken to me of his time in the arena. Or his time in the Capitol. I assume he wants to erase them from his memory.

As we head towards the woodland on the far side of the bay from our houses, I decide if I'm ever going to ask him, now is the time. As we climb the steep slope at the edge of the bay into the woods, I pick my moment.

"Finnick, what were the games like for you?" I ask tentatively.

He stops walking and turns to answer me.

"What do you mean?" he replies, slightly confused.

"Well, what did you feel?" I ask again, hoping I can explain myself.

"What I felt emotionally, or physically?"

"Both, I guess."

"You'll never forget the games, if you're selected for it. Ever." his tone is serious now, as though there are some things he feels he has to say. "There are things that no-one should ever know about, or experience. True horrors. I won't tell you of them, there are things you should only know about if you need to." As we enter the wood, he reaches up to snap a twig from a tree and hurls it into the placid sea on our left.

"I understand," I manage to say meekly in reply. It makes sense. Not sharing with me the full experience of the Hunger Games. To keep things from me, yes. But he's being kind, to stop me from seeing the things he has.  
I return to reality with a start as three small black birds fly mere inches over my left shoulder. Mockingjays, I think. Finnick whistles to them. Nothing too complicated, no doubt he has just made it up. But they sing back, and fill the woods with life. I can't help but smile.

But like all good things, it can't last. Most of our time in the woods is spent thirty feet up, in the branch of some tree or another. We always climb trees when we're in the woods, and always try to better ourselves by climbing trees that are higher and higher than previous ones. I'd say I'm a better climber than Finnick, as I'm lighter, though he can reach further, so it balances out.

Within an hour, the sun is high in the sky, bringing down the July heat upon us, and we both head back to our homes. No doubt we will see each other again at the reaping.

As I open the heavy wooden door to my home, my mother rushes towards me and embraces me. Despite my usual resentment at these moments, I'm grateful for her affection today. This may be the last time I'm with her as a free man.  
Man? I'm just fifteen! Damn... I feel so much older than I am, as though I've aged too young. But only on the inside. I'm fifteen, barely over five feet tall and as thin as a stick. Some things never change.

I can tell she's worried. Her eyes are watering. On the verge of tears. She knows as well as I do that she has, quite possibly for the last time, dragged me from the place where I am truly at home. Out catching the sea breeze with Finnick.

She has a formal look for me as usual for the Reaping; simple black trousers and a sky blue shirt. Nothing too special, not that it matters.

And then it is time.

We say our words of good-luck and 'I love you's and words of hope on the way to the square. For once I feel like mothers are useful, not just an annoying burden there for the sole purpose of restricting our freedom, the way I did when I was younger.

When I arrive in the square, I have to register in, to show I'm present for the Reaping. It's illegal not to be. You have to be knocking on death's door to be excused.

I leave my mother behind and walk over to the back of a queue of boys who are waiting for registry. At the front of the queue there are two peacekeepers. You have to state your name and age, and the peacekeepers take a blood sample, so that they can check that you are who you say you are. Although the queue seems endless, I'm quickly at the front, registering myself for this year's Reaping. The peacekeepers are evidently very efficient at their job. Then again, I've always associated the pristine white uniforms with order and efficiency.

I join the other fifty-or-so fifteen year old boys in the centre of the square, ready for the Reaping. There must be a thousand boys and girls here, many of whom will have their name in many more times than me. I'm lucky. Only four times. But I'm more scared this time than ever before. For the first time, there's no way out if my name is picked.  
Although District 4 trains its own Career tributes, the odds of a Career winning are still low, so they only volunteer for absolute no-hopers. Twelve or thirteen-year-olds, or disabled children. Anyone else is headed in the arena. So, for my first two Reapings, I was protected by the Careers. In my third Reaping, Finnick protected me when my name was pulled. Now if I'm chosen, I have no safeguard. I will become the male tribute for District 4. I look at the large clock on the front of the Justice Building. One minute to two. The Reaping is about to begin.

Out of the Justice Building at the front of the square comes Mayor and the escort for District 4, Flavius Blacklock, with an escort of four peacekeepers, clad in their usual white uniforms.

I applaud in unison with the rest of District 4, who care no more for the Capitol than I do. But we applaud because the Capitol wishes us to. Because they want to make a sadistic celebration of the Dark Days every year. And if we don't, there'll be a bullet through our skulls within an hour. I guess. We might only get ten minutes.

As the town clock strikes two, the Mayor begins his speech. The same one that is given every year, in all the districts of Panem.

He tells the history of our nation, Panem, a country that is built from the ruins of a place that was once called North America. Having heard this speech many times before, I quickly lose attention. I know what I'm missing though. He will be reminding us of the disasters that annihilated so much of the land, and brutal war for what we were left with. Then he will telling us that when the war ended, the result was Panem, a wonderful Capitol ringed by thirteen districts, working together in perfect unison. Then came the Dark Days, the uprising of the districts against the Capitol. Twelve were defeated, the thirteenth obliterated. Finally, the mayor will remind us of the Treaty of Treason, which gives us new laws to prevent such events from reoccurring. As our yearly reminder that the districts must never rebel again, we are given the Hunger Games.

Oh, the wonderful Hunger Games. How we love it so. Ha, who am I kidding? We just have to grit out teeth and tolerate it for as long as possible. And this year's torture is about to begin.

Up steps Flavius Blacklock, to choose the poor souls he'll escort to their deaths this year. Thousands of names in the two bowls, one for boys, one for girls. Mine's only in four times. The bare minimum. The odds are in my favour.

Behind, there are two bowls, a half dozen names in each. These are bowls for the Victor's names to be entered in, to decide which of the people who have already been through hell and back will be guiding the poor young souls to their deaths this year.

And it all begins with the girls.

Flavius' slow walk to the bowl only adds to the suspense. His hand rummages around the bowl a few times, as though genuinely contemplating which random slip of paper to pull out. He settles on one, retrieves it, and takes his time to unfold it carefully.

"Madelaine Harper."

No! Maddie! How could I forget about her? I was so wrapped up in my own fear of the Reaping; I hadn't even considered danger befalling anyone I care about. My sister is out of the Reaping, and I have no cousins. Aside from family, my best friend has already conquered the arena. So why, of everyone else, does it have to be her? It doesn't seem fair. Everyone I care about seems to have a hard time. I feel shocked, numb even, and try to steady myself, when my gaze meets Finnick's, his eyes full of sadness. He knows, even if nobody else does. He knows of the girl of my dreams.

We've known each other for years, me and Madelaine. Friends way back when we started school. When we were just seven. I was the quiet boy who knew no-one, who had no real friends. The social reject. I used to sit around at lunch in the shade of the trees, aimlessly staring into the calm sky or out to sea, daydreaming of whatever came to mind. It was never really enjoyable, but it passed the time.

But one day in spring, Madelaine showed up. She tried to talk to me, to be friends with me. She sat by me and we talked.  
I remember asking he

r name, and having to call her "Maddie" because she was annoyed that I couldn't say her name properly. I was only seven at the time, though. I think her name for me, "Ludo", came as a joke to get back at me for not saying her name properly. Not that I cared. It's nice having a friend, whatever they call you.

And, over time, I came to know her better than anyone. Of how her mother died of illness when she was young, and about how her dad has to work fourteen hours a day at the docks to support her family. She had to look after her two younger brothers, Max and Hugo, because her dad was always leaving her at home when he was working. She spent so much time supporting the family; she barely knew what friends were. But I liked her company, and made every effort to be her friend, especially when I found friends scarce myself. For a year, she was like a sister to me; I was with her always. And I grew to love her.

At this time, I merely cared a lot about her, as we were inseparable. Other, more complicated feelings would come later.

Then when I was nine, I met Finnick. Then Madelaine was no longer a sister to me, more of a mother to both me and Finnick. Always the last to approve of a daring idea, some way to make the peaceful environment of school into something dangerous and edgy. But for the most of the time, she was happy letting us do what we wanted. Those were the good days. Just Maddie and Ludo and Finn.

But the blissful innocence of youth doesn't last forever. Before I knew it we were thirteen, and the Madelaine I had grown up with had changed. Now all young adults, we all took different routes. I was a much more confident person, moved away from the group a little to find new friends. Never true friends like Maddie and Finnick, but good enough friends for me to enjoy my time with them.

Maddie changed a lot too. She had changed from a little girl to a young woman, almost without me noticing. And for the first time I began to appreciate her beauty. Such an elegant figure, with long, slender copper-coloured hair, and such stunning deep blue eyes. And I began to understand why half the boys in the school wanted her. And she slipped away from me. By the time I was fourteen, she was gone, seemingly forever. And my feelings for her were so complicated it was almost unbearable for a time.

The immense sense of longing I felt having been so close to her for so many years left me feeling empty, as well as jealousy for those she chose to grace with her presence. She was gone, but I never gave up hope. Now I think she will be taken from me forever.

As I come to from my daydream and shock, I realise everyone near me had turned to stare at me. My face is on the big screens either side of the stage. What is going on?

Two peacekeepers come through the crowd. They grab me by the arms, forcing me through the crowd towards the stage. As I begin to realise what is going on, panic sets in. I glance nervously over to Finnick, who's almost in tears. This confirms my worst fears. I am to become a tribute.

I walk the stairs onto stage alone, with all of District 4 watching on, applauding me. I know the applause is forced; secretly they're all pleased it wasn't them or their son that was chosen. They just have to cheer me on. It's either that or get shot, and not many would choose the latter.

As I arrive on stage, I finally get to see what my escort, Flavius Blacklock, looks like close up.

I find it so ridiculous what the Capitol men and women look like, though they live in a world without pain, without suffering, where the most important decision is to decide what hair goes with your eyebrows, or whom to spend a fortune donating to in the next Hunger Games. A life of relaxation and entertainment. What all of us in District 4 would give for that. Due to this, despite Flavius Blackstock being of middle age, he appears to be doing everything possible to conceal it. His light brown hair appears to be dyed with blonde streaks, which tails off to a point at the nape of his neck. His clothes seem to be made of some fabric I can't name, from black trousers to a white high-collared jacket, with the Capitol Seal emblazoned on the chest. His face seems to be showing no signs of ageing, and it is easy to spot that he is wearing layers of make-up due to dark patches that contrast too strongly under his eyes.

As I approach him, he holds out a hand, and we shake hands. I notice there is a gold ring on his hand when I shake it. Gold! Real gold! How Capitol people can flaunt their wealth everywhere is a mystery. Evidently gold is next to nothing for them if they are wearing it to the Reaping. A golden ring would give a whole family in District 4 enough money to never have to work again. But that's the way this cruel, cruel world is.

As my hand pulls away, I briefly look into his eyes, expecting to see hatred and disgust. Instead, I see something akin to kindness, catching me off guard. What must he think of me? I must appear sullen and unforgiving to him. But then again, I'm the one being paraded to my death at the hands of a foreign youth in an unknown arena hundreds of miles from home, not him. I am escorted by two peacekeepers to the back of the stage, whilst Flavius conducts the draw for the mentors.

Mentors are past Victors who are there to help guide their tribute to victory, and to secure sponsors for them in the arena. Each tribute will have one, a boy for the boy, a girl for the girl.

The girls' draw passes quickly as I'm still dealing with the shock of both Maddie and myself being chosen at the Reaping. Maddie's mentor is an elderly woman who I believe was called Mags, who I know was District 4's first ever Victor, at the 11th Hunger Games. I have no idea how she survived them, though. No doubt Maddie will be armed with her techniques, though. Many tributes often act as puppets of their mentors once in the arena.

And then we move on to the boys. I've almost got control of my emotions now, and I need to pay attention; my mentor could mean the difference between life and death. I think there's a possible seven to choose from, most of which have won in recent years; Lady Luck has been on District Four's side, lately.

"Finnick Odair."

I'm out of control again. Before I know it I'm on my knees, coughing and retching, spitting phlegm onto the stage. I feel sick, and I want out. This doesn't seem fair at all. Now, when my blood-stained corpse is returned home within the next two weeks, it will all be on Finnick's conscience. That he has killed his best friend.

With the help of two peacekeepers who haul me up to my feet, I walk slowly to the front of the stage to greet my mentor, who's actually younger than I am.

Flavius glances over his shoulder at me and gives me a look of genuine concern. Maybe I've judged him wrong, and he is actually considerate towards the tributes, but even if he is, there's too much going on in my head for me to care. I shake Finnick's hand as I greet him, slightly pleased that there will be a constant in the mad world I will surely be entering.

Then, as customary, the two tributes are to end the Reaping by shaking hands before being escorted into the Justice Building. There are tears in my eyes now, and I've given up hope of trying to hide it. But, as I turn and grasp tightly to Maddie's proffered hand, I can't even bear to look at her. Just the thought of her makes me feel so helpless and afraid. And the full implications of the games hit me, and I'm almost paralysed with shock. I exchange a glance with Finnick, and see his eyes full of pity, stinging with tears. He's realised it too.

If I am to survive the Hunger Games, the girl I love must die.

**A/N: One chapter down, twenty-six to go. More will be added soon. Any feedback is appreciated, constructive criticism is welcome :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This chapter's a bit shorter; the last one was so much longer because it was setting the scene. Hope you enjoy :)**

* * *

**Chapter Two**

**POV: Ludovic Robertson (15), Male Tribute, District 4**

**The Justice Building, District 4**

**2.30 pm, Sunday 8th July, year of the 66th Hunger Games**

* * *

The Justice Building is most probably the most luxurious place I've ever been in. Large royal blue tapestries and banners adorn the stone walls, and blue and gold carpets excellently compliment the ornate wooden furniture. I've only been in here once before. And I'm heading back to the same balcony, though this time Finnick won't be here with me. I won't have to say goodbye to him for a few days yet. I'm left sitting on the waist-height wall that surrounds the balcony, staring out to sea alone. Today it's sunny, and I get a great view of all of the bay, of all the nice things about District 4. It hits me that I'm not just saying goodbye to people, but I'm saying goodbye to my home. All of the best moments of my life have happened within my sight.

After about five minutes, the balcony doors open, and my parents come out to me. They look older and sadder than usual. My mother is reduced to tears, my father is barely managing to keep them in. Bella isn't here, it would be impossible for her to have arrived from the Capitol. I'll probably never see her again. I feel like I want to be alone and think things through, but when my mother opens her arms to me I can't help but run into them. And finally I succumb to tears. It's better now than when the cameras are on me, openly broadcasting me, other tributes targeting me as a weakling. I feel like a young child again.

"It'll be fine, Ludo," she begins, her voice wavering. "You'll be home within two weeks."

It astonishes me how blind with hope some people are. I pull away from my mother and turn to face my parents.

"Mum, Dad, when I get to the Capitol, you'll be able to see who I'm up against. See the other tributes, many of them much taller, older or stronger than me. You'll see that I don't stand a chance of coming back." Maybe I'm being a defeatist, but I'm being kind to my parents. I'm not giving them false hope. That would be too cruel.  
But they see my words differently. My dad's in tears now, too.

"Ludo..." he whispers, before my mother steps in.

"Suppose the Reaping and the arena are kind to you, you'll stand a chance, right?"

She won't give up hope. I can't blame her, if my son had been chosen, I wouldn't give up hope until his corpse had been delivered home. But she must see reason.

"Mum, the arena won't be kind to me!" I snap, eager to get the message across before she's taken away from me forever. "It was kind to District 4 last year, that's why Finnick came back! It won't be a good arena for us two years in a row!"

My dad seems to have realised. He seems resigned to the fact that he won't see his son again, and seems to have overcome the tears. But my mother still hasn't given up hope.

"But there'd still be a chance of you coming home, wouldn't there?"

She's almost pleading now. This is getting too much.

"There is absolutely no chance of me winning!" I scream at her, with tears running down my cheeks and an unnatural ragged voice escaping my throat. I've been shouting too much, but I don't care. I'll get my point across.

"Look, Mum, someone in the Reaping will be easily be more skilful or stronger or faster than me, or just have more luck in the arena. One of the Career tributes from One or Two, if not all of them. They spend their lives training for their time in the arena. Against them, and I will have to face them at some point, I won't survive." I can barely say the words myself, as though I doubt my own ability. Maybe others will be stronger, but I will fight to the death when I have to. But my mother needs to see that I can't win.

"We only know of one other person who's been chosen at the Reaping," I continue. "And even Maddie is... Is..."

And I'm on my knees again, sobbing, wretching, coughing. I allowed myself to think of Maddie, of what will become of us. I really must get these thoughts out of my head. I should at least be grateful that I'm spending my last few days in her company, not worrying what will happen when one of us is gone.

My mother finally seems to have understood what I'm saying, and backs away from me, defeated. I now try to get up to enjoy a moment that we all know will be our last together. As I walk towards them, the doors open behind my parents and four peacekeepers enter to escort them out. My mother rushes towards me, to give some final words to her only son, but two of the peacekeepers grab her arms and pull her back towards the door.

"Ludo, remember that-" and they're gone. And I'm alone on the balcony again. I look out into the bay. There's a storm brewing out at sea. Hopefully District 4 will be behind me forever before it reaches land.

I'm not left alone for long this time, just long enough for the tears to dry up. The Mayor comes out to escort me. He seems in a world of his own, as if his body is a wooden puppet. I guess he hates this part of his job, when he has to escort some poor child on their final journey from their homes. I guess he'll be forever trying to block this moment from his memory. But this will be nothing compared to some of the experiences I'll soon be facing.

"May you please follow me to your transport," the Mayor drones unenthusiastically. His wording indicates a question, but it's clear that I have no choice in the matter. He has come with four peacekeepers, whose armour glints brightly in the late afternoon sun. Never mind the fact they all have guns, disobeying the Capitol would make things so much worse for me, even for a small matter of disobedience. And who knows what the Capitol would then justify doing to my friends and family.

So I am led out of the Justice Building and find myself in the back of a car, being chauffeur-driven to the train station. Maddie is in the back of the car with me, and Flavius sits in between us.

The journey is silent. I can't bear to even look in Maddie's direction for fear of breaking down into tears again. Then she'll want to know what's wrong, and I will have to explain. She doesn't know of my feelings towards her. But she must do at some point. I will have to tell her. I spend the short journey taking in my last sights of District 4. By the time we arrive at the station, I've almost come to terms with the idea that I'm leaving everything and everyone behind me.

As we pull into the station, we get out, and Flavius leads us to the platform. I walk behind next to Maddie. I exchange looks with her, but every time our eyes meet, I look away quickly, worried I'll either blush or burst into tears. I'm not sure what would be worse.

As the three of us arrive on the platform, I become overwhelmed by the number of reporters and cameramen trying to get a shot of the new tributes from District 4. I walk through holding my head high, ignoring all the attention. I'm not a very social person, nor tolerant of nosy reporters, so it's not hard to.

Maddie seems to smile, even pose, for the cameras, relishing the media attention. I guess, for once, we are celebrities. Not that I care, I'll be dead and forgotten in two weeks.

Flavius, however, seems to think Maddie is a little too eager for the cameras, and soon walks back for her to drag her away from the reporters, who are left at one end of the platform. It's at this point that I notice the train.

It is such a thing of beauty, the sleek lines and silver livery, five carriages long, supposedly capable of speeds over 250 miles per hour, or so I've heard. Everything about it appears so calculated, so precise. It seems to radiate luxury and efficiency.

I turn to find Maddie also staring at the train, mesmerised by the amazing machine, so much so that she walked into me and we both tripped and I have to catch her to stop her falling. As I hold her steady, she looks up at me, blushing with embarrassment.

And it hits me. A sudden pang of longing, for this sweet, friendly girl in front of me, quickly followed by a sharp stab of pain when I realise what my own survival in the arena will mean to her, and of the decisions I will soon have to make.

"You two!" It's Flavius.

"Didn't I tell you it's all first class from here?" he says, smiling at us. It's a poor joke, but it seems like he's genuinely being kind to us. A friendly man from the Capitol. Surely that can't be right. After all that's said about the Capitol behind closed doors in Four, friendly citizens is not something I'd expected. Maybe Flavius is an exception, or maybe we've judged the Capitol wrong. Maybe, underneath all the superficial layers or clothes and make-up, they're just like us. Real people with real hopes and dreams. Not cruel, selfish, sadistic people who enjoy torture for sport. I wasn't sure about Flavius when on the stage he seemed to show concern for me, and since then I've been trying to make my mind up about him ever since. But with this joke, albeit a poor one, I decide he's a likeable character. And so I decide to trust him. I follow him and Maddie onto the train. As I stand on the gangplank, I look back at the station, bustling with activity as the first drops of rain start to fall. The clock on the wall says it's four in the afternoon. It's only been two hours since the reaping started, and it feels like more has happened in those two hours than in most weeks. So I take a final look around District 4 station before turning onto the train, to begin the journey of preparation for the 66th Hunger Games.

The doors close behind me, taking District 4 from me forever.

* * *

**A/N: If you enjoyed this, please review :) ****As before, constructive criticism is welcome :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**POV: Ludovic Robertson (15), Male Tribute, District 4**

**The District 4 Tribute's Train, en route to the Capitol**

**3.30 pm, Sunday 8th July, year of the 66th Hunger Games**

* * *

The train begins accelerating immediately and the speed throws me to the back of the car, hitting the door separating me from the next car. Having had the wind knocked out of me, I stagger to the handrail and regain myself before taking a good look around the train. Even in this car, the servants' quarters, everything is so clean and perfect. There are blue carpets on the floor, and silver shines everywhere else. I think all the cars are like this, and they also have vast windows on both sides to let in vast amounts of the overcast light that's currently flooding through. I notice that the acceleration is slowing, and I'm able to stand without the handrail. We must be nearly reaching 250 miles per hour. I look out the window, and just find a green and blue blur. I've never travelled this fast before. In District 4 we usually travel by foot, and I've only ever been in a car a few times, travelling at most sixty miles per hour. This is my first time on a train. I'm amazed how smooth it feels, there's absolutely no sensation of speed, no vibrations from movement, nothing. The only time you notice that you're moving is when you look out the window. I decide I like it here.

I turn away from the window and walk into the next car, where Flavius greets me.

"Now, I'm sure you've got lots of questions to ask about your schedule," he reassures me. He's right. I do want to know what's going on, I'd like to know exactly what I'm meant to be doing. "But all you need to know is that we'll be spending the night on the train and arriving in the Capitol at ten tomorrow morning."

Great. This could be a long trip.

"Your room is the second room in this car," he continues. "You've got an hour until supper in the dining car, so I suggest you run a shower and get ready to meet your mentors again."

Great, Finnick will be here. And Maddie. Just like old times, only two of our lives are at stake. I'm not sure if I'll be pleased to see them or not. I'll certainly be in no hurry for supper. I want some time to myself.

"Finally, there's a TV and entertainment in the dining car, and you can have breakfast whenever you like tomorrow, providing you're up for nine thirty. Of course, I'll be around to help you if you need anything." says Flavius eagerly. I thank him and head to my room. The door slides open for me and I head inside.

It's small, a snug fit, but it's still better than my bedroom at home. The bed is covered by crisp, white, thick bedsheets and looks so enticing. There is a wooden chest of drawers and a large square mirror hanging above it.

Opposite the bed is a door to what appears to be a bathroom, and the space in between is filled by a large window, just like those on the other side of the train.

After taking in my surroundings for a minute, I succumb to the bed and fall onto it, enjoying the quilted feel and warmth coming from wrapping myself in the covers. I guess it's not all bad, being a tribute. For a few days, at least, we get to live as Presidents would. Until the arena. But I try to push that to the back of my mind, and enjoy the moment, wrapped in my own silk cocoon. After about twenty minutes or so, I remember Flavius's reminder about supper, and force myself to get up. I explore the chest of drawers, and find many sets of clothes. I pick out a simple white cotton shirt, and some loose-fitting trousers made from a blue fabric I don't recognise. Still, I think it'll look better than my formal clothes from the Reaping to Flavius, and I'm eager to win his favour after the kindness he has shown me so far today.

But before I get changed, I head into the second room of my compartment, which is, as expected, an en-suite bathroom, or should I say shower-room? The room is covered with white tiles on the floor and all four of the square walls, and the white light that illuminates the room appears to be emitted from the ceiling.

In the room itself, there is a toilet, a sink with a mirror above it, and a shower. A shower! Such a luxury. Back home in District Four, nobody has showers. The lucky few of us who'd done well for ourselves have baths, but the majority that live in the docklands don't even have running water.

I strip and try to use the shower, but I'm immediately overwhelmed by the amount of options available to me. There must be a hundred buttons on the control panel. After what seems like eternity, I deduce what setting must be as close to 'normal' as you can get, and let the shower run. I like the shower. It feels like soft, warm rain. I think we should get them installed at home if we ever have the money, which is unlikely.

After five minutes, I'm out, and I dry myself using the soft, white towels that seem to have materialised on the floor of the shower-room whilst I was in the shower. Yet again, they feel very nice to use. Everything here, from the lighting arrangement to the towels to the beds seem superior to their equivalents at home. I guess I should make the most of them while I can. I clothe myself in the shirt and the trousers made of the unfamiliar fabric. They feel strange on my legs at first, but by the time I leave my compartment for supper, I feel very comfortable in them.

The dining car is even more luxurious than my compartment. It is one open room, which seems to be divided into three sections. In the nearest section, there are several leather chairs and sofas arranged around a glass coffee table. There's also a large flat-screen TV on the wall, showing news broadcasts from the Capitol. As we never hear news of anything that happens outside of Four, none of it means anything to me. Maddie is talking quietly and quickly to Mags, her mentor, in hushed tones across the coffee table, mugs of steaming drinks in their hands, a plate of biscuits on the table.

The end section contains two long wooden tables, running horizontally to the direction of the train. Both are fully laden with all sorts of food, most of which I couldn't name. There are many types of meat, which is something we hardly ever eat in Four, as well as more familiar alternatives, mackerel, haddock and tuna, for we pretty much live off of fish in District 4. There are all sorts of fruit, most I can't name. Many breads, grains, vegetables; everything, really. It's all there. And all looking so much more appetising than it does at home. And at this point I realise I haven't eaten all day, and I'm absolutely starving. I was woken by Finnick before I could feed myself breakfast, and missed my lunch because I was still in the forest with him. At least there's enough food on the tables to feed a small army; I won't sleep hungry tonight.

In the middle of the room, there's a large wooden table with five seats round it; one each for me, Maddie, Finnick, Mags and Flavius. Flavius and Finnick are deep in conversation over what appears to be a rather appetising meal of beef (at least I think it is), assorted vegetables (most of which I don't know) and potatoes, all of which is covered in gravy. As I walk over to them, Flavius gestures for me to join them, and I pull up a chair next to Finnick.

"Ah, Ludovic, we were just discussing the plan for the next week until the start of the games," starts Flavius.

"Please, it's Ludo," I say to Flavius. Nobody really uses my full name anymore.

"As you wish, Ludo," he replies, emphasising my name.

"As I'm sure you know, a key factor in winning the games is the input from sponsors, who give you gifts while you're in the arena," says Finnick, picking up Flavius' train of thought. Now, in order to get many sponsors, you have to get people to like you. In order to get a good image, you need to trust that me and your stylist know what we're doing." finishes Finnick.

"What if I don't like what my stylist's doing?" I say, getting up to grab a drink from the table.

"You will," Finnick say, giving me a reassuring smile. "You've got the same stylist I had last year."

I'm not sure what to make of this. Maybe Finnick will be able to help me know what to expect, maybe he won't. On one hand, he'll be able to predict what the stylist may do. On the other, this year they might try a totally different approach.

"You'll first meet your stylist, Julia, tomorrow morning in the Remake Centre," continues Flavius briskly. "You'll spend the day with her getting prepared for the tributes' parade during the opening ceremonies tomorrow evening."

I've seen the parades on TV before. All the tributes paraded on chariots through the centre of the Capitol to the City Circle, where President Coriolanus Snow officially opens the Hunger Games. All the tributes are dressed according to the main industry of their district, which for District 4 is fishing. Many a year has gone by with our tributes being paraded through the Capitol dressed as fishermen. All the tributes seem to be caricatures, as though the Capitol stylists are making a mockery of the Districts. And yet the Capitol citizens love it. I hope Julia has different plans for my parade attire.

I grab a mug from the end of the table and pour myself some coffee from a large kettle. I take a sip. I've always thought I loved coffee, but this is in a different league to the coffee I have at home. This is the proper stuff made from ground coffee granules, from the actual plant. It's so rich, so much nicer than the version of coffee we have back home in District 4.

I take the drink back to the table, and enjoy a hearty dinner of mackerel fillets, rice and mushrooms all covered in a thick, creamy white sauce.

I try to keep the conversation over the dinner table to small talk, and avoid mentioning the games, or, in particular, Maddie. I'm relieved when both Flavius and Finnick finish before me and retire to bed.

By now, the sun has set in the clear Panem sky, and a purple tinge is left faintly hanging just above the horizon. Mags has gone to bed too, leaving Maddie alone playing solitaire on the coffee table.

I can't just leave her alone. I have to go and talk to her again. I've most likely only got a few days to live, and I'd rather spend them with her than without.

"Hey," I say casually as I sit down on the sofa next to her.

"Oh, hey Ludo," she says, looking up at me. Ludo. At least she's not so distant to stop using my nickname. Maybe all our friendship hasn't been lost.

"What a long day..." I venture, trying to get a conversation going.

"Tell me about it." Some of then old sarcasm. Maybe she hasn't changed so much.

"Well...-"

"-It was sarcasm, dear."

Alright, all the old sarcasm's there, and I'm hit by such a burst of regret over what has come between us that my mind goes numb. I find that, no matter what my body might tell me about survival, even if I had to, I wouldn't be able to kill the girl sitting next to me. She means too much.

"Got any ideas about the arena yet?" There. It's done. I've brought up the games, the overhanging pressure. This probably won't end well.

"Yeah, me and Mags have a rough plan worked out. Of course it all depends how well I adapt to certain things in training."

Well, that's more of a plan than I've got. I haven't even begun to think about my arena tactics. I was hoping Finnick, having been in the arena before himself, will know which of my traits will be of the most use. Thinking about it, it might not be that simple.

"What sort of plans have you got, then?" I ask cautiously.

"Sorry, Ludo. Can't tell you that. Mags said not to tell anyone my strategies, to keep as much as possible to myself. After all, we're all enemies in the arena, right?"

I feel like I've just been slapped. I'm so stunned I find myself staring at the coffee table in shock. She doesn't trust me. Not only doesn't she trust me, but if it came to it, she wouldn't have any difficulty killing me. And I thought we might be able to stay friends.

Just as the silence begins to get awkward, all the lights in our car dim to almost nothing, and the TV turns on, displaying the Capitol seal and blaring out the national anthem of Panem. This must be some sort of compulsory viewing. And then I remember that this will be the replay of the Reaping, so that all the district people can see the Reapings in the other districts and get a first look at the tributes for this year's Hunger Games. And, sure enough, I'm soon greeted by Claudius Templesmith and Caesar Flickermann, the perpetual faces of the Hunger Games, the commentators and announcers.

"Good evening, and welcome the 66th Annual Hunger Games!" began Templesmith.

"Well, this year's reaping has thrown it all out for us, and tonight we'll be showing the highlights of the Reapings from right across Panem!" added Flickermann. Well, I guess that could be worse. I guess that if the Reaping has 'thrown it all out," there's a varied group of tributes. Not too many powerhouses then. Hopefully just one. I look across to Maddie, and although it's difficult to see in near-dark, her face seems expressionless. Maybe she hasn't read as far into Flickermann's words as I have.

Now the highlights from the Reaping in District 1 are being shown, and, oddly, no volunteer comes forward in the boy's Reaping. This is incredibly odd as each year, Districts 1 and 2 both train one boy and one girl each to volunteer at the Reaping. Along with our tributes, the tributes from One and Two make up the careers, so these tributes more often then not end up as Victors. That's why District 4 has had 15 Victors in 65 Hunger Games, including the very first Games. Only Two has had more Victors, at 17. In Two, there are the usual two volunteers, though they look like less of a threat than to previous years.

Fortunately, Three holds no real threats, two small, shy, ashen-skinned children, both of whom are fourteen and could pass for eleven.

Then it's our district, and I find myself watching my own Reaping. It seems just like the one I had to watch last year, only this time, no young bronze-haired boy runs out to volunteer for me. From the commentator's expressions, my Reaping has been more of a talking point than I expected. Not because of who I am, but because I have been chosen twice in two years. Maddie is barely spoken about in the brief analysis of our Reaping, before they move on to District Five.

District 5 has two tributes that barely make an impression on me, as does Six. A brother and sister are chosen from District 7, a man-mountain in Nine, and a twelve-year-old boy in Twelve. Other than that, none of the remaining tributes to be shown make much of an impression.

I look across to Maddie. "Anyone you're watching out for?" I ask.

"The usual suspects. One and Two, the lad from Nine. Other than those, I should cope fine."

I nod back, not wanting to talk any more. Suddenly I feel weak. She isn't threatened by me. Maybe she's worked out I'll never manage to kill her. Maybe she sees me as a weakling. Or maybe she's calling my bluff, and just won't admit to being to being threatened by me. Whatever she thinks, I should stop thinking about it. And I should stop thinking about her, too. Compassion is a weakness in the arena.

By the time I return from my thoughts, Caesar Flickermann is now interviewing the Head Gamemaker, Tiberius Greenwood, and the two Assistant Head Gamemakers, Seneca Crane and my namesake, Ludovic Fawkes. Little they say matters to me, except that they say that they took a radical approach to designing this year's arena. I guess that means the possibilities are almost endless, especially if they're trying something new. I always expected this year to be hard, though. We had everything our way last year. That's why Finnick made it back.

The interview draws to a close, and both me and Maddie get up and head back to our own rooms to get some sleep for the night. I can't imagine I'll get a good night's sleep after all the stress I've been through today, but I can only try.

I feel so tired that I don't bother to change before wrapping myself up in my bedsheets, and let sleep take me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

**POV: Ludovic Robertson (15), Male Tribute, District 4**

**The District 4 Tribute's Train, en route to the Capitol**

**6.45 am, Monday 9th July, year of the 66th Hunger Games**

* * *

I sleep fitfully, reliving the previous day's traumas in my dreams. Finally I find I can take sleep no longer and rise from bed shortly before dawn. A look at the clock says it's quarter to seven. I shower, then put on the same clothes as yesterday and grab a light blue hooded jacket that zips up my front and put it on over the top. It's different to any of the buttoned shirts I wear at home, but very comfortable.

I'm in the dining car getting breakfast before anyone else wakes. The sun is just rising, and I see that the sea appears to be a long way behind us, out of sight. Now we travel through a hilly, wooded region that I'd guess to be near District 7. Not that I'll ever get to find out. But the sea is gone, and I momentary feel empty as I wonder if I'll ever see the waves again.

The dining car is deserted apart from the Capitol guard by the breakfast tables. Somehow he makes me feel uneasy as he stands watching me, so tall and serious. I head to the buffet table and pick up two rounds of toast, butter them, and head to the chairs in front of the television to eat them. A news broadcast is on at the moment, but I quickly get bored of it as it talks only of petty issues such as fashion, celebrities and music. And, of course, the Hunger Games.

I'm halfway through the second round of toast when Finnick walks in. He also gets himself food, though I've finished eating by the time he's sat opposite me across the coffee table.

"Morning, Ludo," he says gruffly. I can tell he's just woken up. "Long day ahead, though you'll get the full details from Flavius, I'm sure. I shan't bother you with all the tenuous details. He'll tell you them again, anyway."

This puts a smile on my face for the first time since the Reaping. Yes, it's been bad for me, but at least Finnick will be here to help.

"Of course, tonight is the opening ceremony, in which you will appear in the tributes' parade. You'll spend all day with your stylist preparing for that, so I shan't waste my breath on it. You know what I'm like with fashion." It's great seeing Finnick as normal, although there does seem to be something more serious than usual in our conversation. As though some of the laughter has been lost. I can guess why. Now he's my mentor, he has a job to do. He has a responsibility. To get me home alive.

"Now, down to business," he continues. Well, that was expected. "I've always kept my experiences of the arena from you. Because I know that nobody should ever be allowed to put themselves through what we tributes have to. But I will tell you what I can about tactics."

Brilliant. This is just what I've wanted to hear since the Reaping. A plan, however vague it may be.

"As you know, all the contestants start forty metres from the cornucopia, where the choice supplies are held. When the minute ends, the fastest sprinters will reach the cornucopia first. They will have the best weapons. Whether they keep them for longer than a minute or two will depend on how competent they are. As everyone gets armed, the cornucopia will turn into a bloodbath. You must not get involved in the fight. You're not up to it, physically."  
Well, I've known this myself, anyway. Usually between six and twelve of the tributes are killed off in the first hour. It's never been in my interests to consider rushing to the cornucopia.

"Then again, if you are to keep yourself alive in the arena, then you will need some supplies from the cornucopia. Not necessarily a weapon, but survival kit. A sleeping bag, some matches, a water bottle, anything really. And you'll need all of it that you can get."

"Won't that mean going to the cornucopia to gather supplies, though?" I ask, slightly confused.

"Not necessarily," replies Finnick. "Now, here's something I didn't know until I was in the arena; the supplies strewn around the edge of the cornucopia are really valuable. Maybe not as good as those in the centre of the horn, but certainly life-saving. For instance, you might find a sleeping bag ten metres out, but a tent at the centre. Or a few plasters fifteen metres out, and a full first-aid kit at the mouth of the horn. But most of the supplies that kept me alive last year were from the surrounding area, ten or twenty metres out. So, here's what I'd suggest. Grab supplies that are up to thirty metres in, then get out of there. Don't go within ten metres of the cornucopia."  
"Ok, but once I'm away from the cornucopia, what then?"

"Once you're away from the cornucopia, there can only be one priority; find water. Whatever kind of terrain you're thrown into, there will be water. Otherwise everyone will be dead in a week, and the games will be no good in the Capitol. They'll want it to drag a bit. So you'll have to locate the water source and keep stocked up. Also, you can catch fish in the water. You're a decent young fisherman. If not, you can find food in plants. We've spent long enough in the woods around Four to know what's poisonous. The rest is up to you, but I'd recommend finding high ground. You'll be protected from ranged attacks, there are usually a couple of bows at the cornucopia, and you'll get a good view of the arena. Get to know your surroundings, and use it to outwit your enemies. Plus, you'll be able to see them coming. From then in, there's one rule; stay alive. Forget ethics, and trust your instincts. Stealing isn't illegal in the arena, and no-one will punish you for murder. As much as it may seem immoral, you won't think twice about it in the arena. The arena changes you, Ludo. It makes survival the only important thing. Nothing else matters at all once you're in there."

It all sounds too dark, too unreal. But I know it's true. Survival is the only thing that matters. And Finnick is here to help me survive. I wait for him to continue, but he doesn't. I have nothing to say to him. His words have numbed me. We sit in silence for fifteen or so minutes, before Finnick gets up and retires to his room. Mags and Maddie come and go, talking quickly and mutedly. The sun is high in the sky by the time Flavius arrives for breakfast, and I take the opportunity to get a further helping of food for myself.

We sit together at the table as I start on my third round of toast.

"Today, Ludo, we arrive at the Capitol."

This I already knew. The opening ceremony is tonight. What we'll do until then, I have no idea.

As if reading my mind, Flavius continues. "Now, as I'm sure you know, the opening ceremony is this evening. Today, in preparation for that, you will be with your stylist, who will be making you look presentable for the Tribute's Parade."

This seems reasonable. Strangely, I'm not nervous about meeting my stylist. She was with Finnick last year; hopefully she'll give me similar treatment.

"When we arrive, you will be taken straight to the Remake Centre, where you will meet your stylist, Julia, and be prepared for your debut at the ceremony. Of course, this is a massive occasion. This is your first chance to impress sponsors."

Of course, that's easier said than done. Most sponsors haven't the money to back two tributes, so it's important that any chance to impress the sponsors is acted upon perfectly.

At this point, all goes black in the dining car as the train enters a tunnel, and two seconds later the car is flooded with white light.

"Ah, we're nearly here," explains Flavius. "We're now travelling under the mountains that surround the Capitol, that the ancients called the 'Rockies'. We'll be in the Capitol in ten minutes."

We stand to leave our table and head to the windows of the car as Finnick enters the room and joins us.  
"When you get to the Capitol, your image is the most important thing," he reminds me. "Follow my lead at the station."

I don't have long to prepare. I'm suddenly blinded by the bright lights as we come out of the tunnel pulling into the station, virtually at the platform. The deceleration causes me to lose my balance, but I at least manage to stay on my feet. As I get a better look at the station, I see just how different the Capitol is from home. In comparison to the simple, one track station in Four, there are countless lines stretching out on our right. The small brick ticket office and waiting room are now a massive structure, white-walled with a large glass roof. The handful of people lying around waiting for a train have transformed into hundreds of oddly-dressed men and women wearing the most obscene shades of green, lilac and orange, all cheering frantically at us, the new celebrities in town. I don't see why they get so attached to the tributes. We'll nearly all be dead in two weeks.

I then notice our Capitol guards parting the crowds, who are quickly followed by Mags and Maddie, who make their way into the first of two sleek, silver cars waiting on the platform to escort us to the Remake Centre.  
I turn to Finnick, who is beckoning me out of the now-open doors of the dining car. As I pass him, he whispers in my ear;

"Eyes straight ahead, head high; don't notice the crowd."

Flavius is already on the platform waiting for me to follow. Gingerly, I leave the train behind me. The first thing I notice is the heat. The sweltering July sun is coming through the glass roof of the station and turning the building into a giant greenhouse. Quickly after noticing the heat, the wall of noise hits me. Hundreds of people, shouting, screaming, calling my name, reaching out to touch me; I really am a celebrity. I so desperately want to act like Maddie does so naturally and play the crowds, but she isn't being mentored by Finnick. And Finnick has given me orders. For all I know, they could be the difference between life and death.

I'm in the car after what feels like ten seconds, sitting between Flavius and Finnick. I'm so glad for the pair of them. Without them, I'd be completely out of my depth here. The car is so luxurious. The air in here has been cooled, so that it feels like the more temperate climate of March, and we sit in spacious, well-padded leather seats, leaving us in perfect comfort. Our car follows Maddie and Mags' car out of the station, barely making a sound as it is driven by one of our guards.

As we leave the station, I get my first proper look at the Capitol, and I'm instantly lost for words. It's so majestic, this place. Tall, elegant buildings in a myriad of colours are all around me. The wide tiled roads have many sleek, shiny cars on them, the whole place feels alive as thousands of oddly-clothed citizens roam the streets.  
"Amazing, isn't it?" smirks Finnick, half stunned himself. Evidently seeing this place once isn't enough to fully appreciate its grandeur.

After what I'd guess was ten minutes, we arrive at a tall, thin building that appears to be semi-circular in shape, with the curved side almost completely made of glass. This is the Remake Centre, our home for the next nine hours. Our cars pull to a half directly in front of the Remake Centre. As we get out and head to the foyer, we regroup with Maddie and Mags.

"Alright, tributes," addresses Flavius. "You're now going to be taken to your stylists, Julia and Lucius. For the first time here, you're on your own. It's up to the stylists from now until eight this evening, an hour before the ceremony starts. Until then, what happens to you is up to your stylists. Now, the Remake Centre has 13 floors. As you're from District 4, you two will meet your stylist on floor four. Good luck, and see you tonight."

As me and Maddie headed to the elevator, Finnick pulled me back.

"What?" I complain frustratedly.

"One point," he says, trying to keep my attention. "No matter how ludicrous Julia's idea might be, don't object to her plans for you. Trust me, it'll turn out fine in the end. It did for me."

"Uh... Ok, I'll try." I say in reply. Finnick doesn't seem convinced.

"Promise?"

"Fine, whatever," I shrug, which gets a small laugh from Finnick.

We quickly shake hands and I turn to leave.

In the elevator, alone with Maddie, I can't help but think of our conversation last night. Of how I know she'll be trying to kill me. I need her as an ally. One, because I don't want her targeting me. And two, because if anyone's going to kill her, I don't want to have to do it myself. But now is not the time for making friends. Even old friends.  
As the elevator doors open out into a corridor, we get our first look at our stylists.

Lucius, Maddie's stylist, appears to have similar tastes in fashion to Flavius, as he is also wearing a high-collared fabric coat, and has blond streaks in his dark hair. He does come across quite emotionless, though. I hope he's a little nicer than he seems. I want him to be good for Maddie.

My stylist, Julia, stands next to Lucius, though almost a foot shorter than him. I might even be taller than her. She wears a knee-length, tight-fitting red dress, and has her long dark hair flowing over her shoulders. She's undoubtedly very pretty, and very conscious over her looks. This level of perfection must have taken a lot of care and attention. Hopefully she can apply the same care and attention to me.

Lucius leads Maddie into a room on our left, leaving me alone with my stylist for the first time.

"Hello, Ludo," Julia begins, speaking in the high-pitched, nasal voice that I've long associated with Capitol women. Though woman might not be the right word; she could pass for sixteen. In reality, she's probably in her early twenties.

"Hello," I answer back, rather formally.

"Oh, Ludo, slacken off the formalities a little," Julia jokes, which puts me at ease a bit. I think I'll get used to her. "Well, I guess some people are just destined to meet." she continues, confusing me a little. "Oh, don't be alarmed," she says reassuringly. "You just might've been mentioned a little in mine and Finnick's conversations last year."

It feels weird, knowing that Finnick spoke of me to people in the Capitol. Obviously Capitol people are worth more than I thought if they're willing to listen to fourteen-year-old boy talk of his friends. Evidently that's how she already knew my nickname. And I'm glad she still remembers me. Evidently Finnick spoke highly of me.

"Now, why don't you come inside?"

We head into a large, open-plan room, with the glass wall on the outside that exposes the rainbow-coloured Capitol outside. We sit down at some plush sofas, facing each other from across a mahogany coffee table.

"Firstly," she starts, evidently wanting to get straight on to business. "I'm sorry you've been chosen at the reaping. I hope you're coming to terms with what's going to happen."

She seems kind to me, and I feel glad I have Julia as well as Flavius and Finnick to help me. She continues to inform me on my situation, as everyone seems to want to tell me everything today. "Fortunately for us, there's a lot of sympathy for you in the Capitol, as you've been reaped twice. I'm going to make sure you take advantage of that and get you plenty of sponsors in the arena."

"How're you going to do that?" I ask, hoping Julia won't fit me in some odd fishermen's outfit like District 4 tributes have most years.

"Try and make it seem like you're above it all. As though you're not intimidated or scared by the idea of being a tribute. You're going to seem cold, calculating and ruthless. Show determination."

"But this isn't what I'm like, doesn't that matter?" I ask.

"Not to the Capitol citizens, it doesn't. They just want a good show. And you can give them it."

And I really will try to. I give them what they want, they give me the gifts I need in the arena. It's really a win-win situation.

Julia stands, up and beckons for me to follow her into a small, windowless room, which has a few chairs, a table and lots of beauty equipment and lotions stored in bottles on shelves covering the walls. The only light in the room is provided by a fluorescent tube that is attached to the ceiling and emits a white, flickering light. Three young women sit in chairs around a table, and all turn and smile at me as me and Julia enter.

"Cynthia, Lavinia, Felicity, meet Ludovic," says Julia enthusiastically. "Ludo, meet your new prep team."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thanks if you've read my story so far, I hope you're enjoying it. This is a key chapter as it gives a lot of detail most of the tributes, some of which have massive significance on the story. I'm not going to give away who that is yet, though! :)**

* * *

**Chapter Five**

**POV: Ludovic Robertson (15), Male Tribute, District 4**

**The Remake Centre, The Capitol**

**8.40 pm, Monday 9th July, year of the 66th Hunger Games**

* * *

After what seems like eternity, I find myself in the stables below the Remake Centre with all the team for District 4. I spent hours with my prep team, who seemed to want to eradicate every last trace of imperfection from my body. I've been scrubbed, washed, plucked, combed, trimmed, styled and I can't even remember what else. Then I was taken to Julia, who dressed me in a simple black tunic, outlined with sky blue lines around the edges of my sleeves, neck and waist. It seems simple yet effective. I think it suits me well. Julia even managed to get my hair to stay down.

And now I'm here, sitting on the steps of our chariot next to Maddie, surrounded by our team. There's Flavius leaning against the side of the carriage in conversation with Finnick and Julia, whilst Lucius and Mags are talking to Maddie. I can't help but notice what a good job Lucius has done with Maddie, how stunning he has made her look.

There's no way I'll attract any attention next to her. She's in an ankle-length sky blue dress that flows down elegantly all around her. Her hair has been tied up in a fancy type of bun, and intricate blue earring has from her ears. She looks simply stunning. I can't bear to think of what might become of her in the coming days.  
I turn away from her and tune in to Finnick's conversation with Flavius and Julia. As if noticing I'm now listening, Flavius turns to speak to me.

"Ah, Ludo, Finnick was just saying that now that all the other tributes are down by their chariots, now might be a good chance to mingle with the others."

"To work out potential threats, and who to consider as allies," explains Finnick. "You'll most likely need some allies in the arena, of course."

I check the clock. Eight-forty. I don't need to be back at my chariot for another fifteen minutes. I slide down off the steps and walk forward with Finnick towards the District 1 chariot at the front of the procession.

As I walk past the other chariots, I'm amazed how many of the mentors I recognise from the broadcasts of previous years. I remember the female mentor from two, Lyme, and she seems just as unfriendly now as she did on TV.

We stop at District 1's chariot, and I get in immediate conversation with the male tribute, he's a year older than me, and seems very like Finnick. Good-looking, but ultimately more than a pretty face, I can tell. The fact that nobody volunteered for him in the reaping suggests he was probably intended to be a tribute all along. He could be a threat, but we exchange kind words, and Finnick talks to him comfortably and openly. They seem to get along like a house on fire. We eventually have to leave District 1's chariot as the boy is dragged away by his mentor, Gloss. We didn't have chance to speak to the girl.

"Definite ally material," is all Finnick has to say about the boy from District 1 as we leave their chariot behind.  
District 2 tributes traditionally ally with tributes from 1 and 4, though despite friendly looks from the male tribute, the hostile looks shown by both the girl and the mentors show us that District 2 has no intention of being our allies this year. At least, not past the somewhat-traditional three-day Career alliance. Fortunately, the friendly-looking boy looked particularly lethal, and could be a good ally past day three, but the girl won't be much of a handful to take out.

Neither of the ashen-skinned introverts from Three make any attempt to contact us as we pass their chariot, and then we pass out own as we head to the back of the procession. None of the tributes from Five or Six seem like possible allies or serious threats, the strongest being the fifteen-year-old girl from District 5.

The brother and sister from District 7 are mentored by a lone victor, thirty-eight-year-old Blight, who won the 46th Games twenty years ago. I remember his games clearly- my uncle was in it. My family have made a point of showing it to me repetitively to demonstrate the brutality of the Games. He was killed at the Cornucopia by some girl from Five. Lasted all of three minutes. Twenty-first, I think he came. Not that it mattered.

After a brief chat with the male tribute, seventeen-year-old Blaine, we realised we only had two minutes to get back to our chariot, and cut short our tour of the districts. Not that it really matters, we'll see them all again tomorrow.

Just as we arrive at our chariot, a voice comes over the loudspeaker and tells us we have sixty seconds to get in our chariots. Maddie is already on ours. I stand up onto the steps to follow her on, but Finnick grabs my shoulder and pulls me back. I turn to face him, and he presses something small and sharp into my hand. I look down and see a small pin, a badge, a symbol. I immediately recognise it, and look up at Finnick, astonished.

"Tributes are meant to have a token from their district with them in the arena as a reminder of home and something to identify them by. I thought you might want this," says Finnick, slightly less confidently than usual.

I'm not surprised he seems a little down an the moment. What I have in my hand is a silver brooch, in the shape of a curved, upside-down three-pronged trident. I remember being told that in the old world, this symbol represented hope and peace. I'm no pacifist, but I believe the world could do with some more compassion in it, so this seems like an appropriate token for me. But it is also the same token Finnick wore into the Arena last year. All sorts of thoughts about where this brooch has been and what it's seen run through my head in an instant, and I make a split-second decision to take his offering.

"Thank you," I mutter in response as my hand closes around the brooch.

"Just remember, after the parade, you'll be taken to the Training Centre, where you'll be held until the Games start. I'll meet you there in an hour's time." Finnick looks up at me and smiles. "Good luck, Ludo."

"Thirty seconds," announces the voice from the loudspeaker.

I turn away from Finnick and get onto the chariot, then clamber past Maddie to stand on her right.

"Nervous?" she asks.

"Me?" I say, as though there would be anyone she would talk to. "Not really. I haven't had time to think about nerves." I remember my brooch, and start fastening it to the front of my tunic. The silver seems to contrast well with the black.

"What's that you've got there?" Maddie asks inquisitively.

"A brooch," I reply. "Finnick gave it to me as a token from our district."

"I haven't been given a token yet," said Maddie, with a touch of disappointment in her voice. "I must remember to ask Mags about it after the ceremony."

"I'll remind you," I say, and at that point I feel the pair of horses in front of our chariot start to move, and I know the tributes' parade is starting. The end of the Remake Centre is two hundred yards ahead, and then we're on one of the Capitol high streets, making our way to the City Circle, finishing our procession in front of the President's mansion, where he will formally open the 66th Annual Hunger Games.

"Sooo..." starts Maddie, somewhat playfully."What's your strategy for this parade?"

I'm slightly taken aback by her words. Part of me thinks I've got the old Maddie back, the one me and Finnick were good friends with, and part of me thinks she's faking the friendliness to gain information on my strategies.  
"Act as though I'm indifferent. You?" Well, it's done. I've decided to trust her blindly. I'm actually surprised when she answers me back.

"Smile and wave. I know it's not much of a strategy, but Mags wants me to appear happy and amiable."

I really can't work Maddie out at the moment. I think she trusts me, but I can't be sure. Who knows what she could be planning? The only option I have right now is to keep trusting her. That way, if she turns on me, I'll hopefully have enough information about her to take her down. But hopefully it won't come to that. If I get the choice, I'd much rather have her as a friend than a foe.

"That should work well for you," I say. "Well, you seemed to enjoy the cameras at the station last night in Four."  
We both laugh for a moment.

"Why don't you try it then, Ludo?" Maddie asks.

"I would, but I'm not much of an extrovert. And also Julia has set up this angle for me. I just have to trust that it works," I reply.

"Well, Mags seems to think that if I appear likeable now, more Capitol men and women will sponsor me. After all, this ceremony is the first time that our potential sponsors get to see us up close," Maddie explains.  
"Still, I'm going to follow Julia's advice and play it safe."

We near the end of the Remake Centre, and exchange our final words with each other before the procession begins.

"Good luck, Maddie."

"Good luck, Ludo."

The wall of noise as we head out onto the high street is unbelievable. The wide street is lined with hundreds and thousands of brightly-dressed cheering fans, some of whom I can hear calling out our names. The loudspeakers along the route announce our names as each district's chariots exit the Remake Centre, and loud, flamboyant music is playing making the whole thing seem like a theatrical event. It's dusk, and the sunset has painted the sky vivid shades of pink and orange. It's starting to cool off for the day, and the temperature is a little on the cold side. It's cool, but not freezing.

In the distance, I can see the City Circle, brightly lit for the occasion. In about twenty-five minutes, we'll be there. I can still hear the loudspeaker:

"Ladies and gentlemen, the tributes from District 7; Blaine and Isabella Maguire!" Each announcement merits a slight swell in the amount of applause, which quickly dips back to a constant level. I feel fully overwhelmed by the scale of the event at first, but after about five minutes I begin to get used to it. Still, I stick to Julia's plan and try to appear indifferent, but it's difficult when so many people are cheering for you and calling out your names. After about ten minutes I become aware that a lot of things are being thrown at our chariot, then turn to find Maddie smiling and posing comically for the audience, gathering large cheers as she does so. She really is relishing the attention. Somehow I don't think it'd work if I tried that. I allow myself a small sigh (that Maddie won't be able to hear) before returning to being indifferent.

The remaining fifteen minutes of the parade pass quickly, and I find myself at a standstill in the City Circle, our chariot facing the balcony on the President's mansion on the far side of the circle. By now, sunset has passed, and the whole sky is black, filled with the twinkling gems that are stars. The City Circle appears very similar to the high streets; it is also lined with many Capitol Citizens cheering for us, and also there are large screens hanging from the sides of buildings that show the official broadcasts that will be aired all across Panem. If I hadn't been selected in the reaping, I'd probably be watching this at home with my family... My family! I haven't spared a thought for them since I got on the train to the Capitol. I suddenly feel so selfish. My parents will be watching this at home, no doubt worried sick about me. And, somewhere in the Capitol, maybe even in the crowd right now, Bella...

The last chariot, the one belonging to District 12, comes to a halt in the City Circle. As it does, the background music ends with added flourish. Shortly afterwards, President Snow walks out onto the balcony and starts a twenty minute long speech that officially starts this year's Hunger Games.

I know that it's customary for the cameras to cut away from the President to the faces of the tributes during the speech (I've seen it on the broadcast in previous years) but it seems like certain tributes get more screen time than others from watching the large screens in the City Circle. The boy from District 1 gets a lot of attention (I can assume the crowds cheered for him a lot) as does Maddie, and the girl from District 12. I make a mental note to meet up with her during training.

President Snow finally concludes his speech with the eternal line, "Happy Hunger Games, tributes. And may the odds be ever in your favour."

Then we all have to stand for the national anthem of Panem, and then our chariots lead us around the Circle one final time and away to the Training Centre with a standing ovation.

As we draw closer to the Training Centre, I can see that the main tower looks identical to that of the Remake Centre, and is no doubt thirteen storeys high. No prizes for guessing we'll be on the fourth floor.

Our chariot stops outside the main entrance and we join the crowd of tributes trying to force our way through the glass doors into the entrance foyer. Once inside, I find myself ambushed immediately by my prep team, who talk hurriedly to me as though I didn't see what had happened at the ceremony.

"Brilliant!" says Cynthia.

"Astonishing!" says Lavinia.

"Perfect!" says Felicity.

"Not quite," says Julia, brushing the prep team aside to talk to me. "But close enough. Your outfit suited you, and you looked good. Though a few tributes outshone you. Robin, the lad from One, for instance. Or Sophia, the girl from Twelve. And luckily, Maddie. She drew attention to your chariot, so everyone noticed you, too."  
"Great," I say, not sure how this wasn't actually perfect.

I see that everyone else is engulfed in work with their prep team; their complicated costumes aren't as practical as mine. However, seeing that nothing needs doing to my outfit, Julia dismisses my prep team and leads me to the elevator. The walls of the elevator are glass, just like the rest of the front of the building, and as I rise into the sky with Julia, the Capitol skyline at night takes my breath away. All those twinkling lights, for miles and miles around.

It's a pity I can only enjoy this view for a few days.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

**POV: Ludovic Robertson (15), Male Tribute, District 4**

**Floor 4, The Training Centre, The Capitol**

**9.45 pm, Monday 9th July, year of the 66th Hunger Games**

* * *

My quarters are on the fourth floor, along with Maddie's and the rest of our team's and we share a communal open-plan dining room, lounge and sitting room area. We also get a balcony. My quarters are even plusher than those I had on the train, to the point that I probably won't ever use two thirds of the gadgets that are here. I'm probably not going to comprehend half of the buttons on the shower, or those on the telephone. I reckon I might just be able to manage the alarm clock.

Despite my initial concerns, I have to shower. It ends up being simpler to use than I imagined, but still a handful. Eventually, after fiddling a lot of buttons, I get a setting that's bearable. After washing quickly, I dry myself off by towel before realising there was a setting on the shower for it to dry me without me doing anything. I make a mental note to use that setting tomorrow.

I program the wardrobe for an outfit of my taste, and lie back on the bed waiting for it to arrive. I realise it's my first chance to sit down since I arrived in the Remake Centre this morning. I guess there's no such thing as rest from now on.

It takes less than a minute for the clothes to arrive. I dress quickly and only then do I realise how hungry I am. I haven't eaten since breakfast. At this point, there's a knock on my door, and it's Flavius inviting me to dinner.  
I follow him out into the large open dining area, and find seat at a long table, covered by a delicate white tablecloth. The table has been laid for seven, though only me, Flavius and Finnick are here. Flavius takes a seat at the head of the table. Finnick sits on his right, and I sit down next to him. Maddie arrives shortly, closely followed by Mags. We don't wait for Lucius and Julia before starting to eat.

Three young men silently carry in drinks in stemmed glasses. Wine, I think it is. I'm not too keen on its aroma, but a drink is a drink; it'll keep me hydrated. The silent servants return with plates of food that are full to the brim, laden with massive piles of vegetables, meat and battered puddings. A full roast dinner. Such luxury. In a diet consisting of mainly seafood, poultry is a real rarity back home, and I relish this opportunity.

However, the three silent servants slightly unnerve me, standing as still as statues at the edge of the room in their all-white uniforms. 'Avoxes', I hear Flavius call them in conversation with the stylists. I have no idea what he means by that term. I've never come across it before.

I watch them come and go as they do their business, silently watching us, filling our glasses when they empty, and clearing away empty plates. There's still something not right about them. It's a little eerie, and I don't like it. I realise that one of them has noticed me staring at him, and I quickly try and concentrate on my meal, not daring to look up at the Avox again.

I try drinking my wine, but I find it thick and too strong, and the aftertaste is vile, so I quickly abandon the drink. It also seems to make me feel a little dizzy, and I don't like the feeling. My parents never let me have it at home, and I can understand why. Not only is wine the height of luxury, it's vile and dangerous. I'd be wasting it if it were served to me at home. Plus, it's illegal for men under age to buy it, so I'd never get hold of it unless my parents gave it to me. I'm glad they didn't, though maybe it's just an acquired taste. Still, I doubt it's one I can acquire in five days. I'll stick to fruit juice from now on.

The conversation between the escort and the stylists has once again mentioned Avoxes, and curiosity gets the better of me.

"What's an Avox?" I ask.

The three adults turn to me with a look of half-incredulity, and the two stylists shoot a look a Flavius, who pauses for breath before answering me.

"An Avox," starts Flavius. "Is a person who has committed a crime."

"They have their tongues cut, so that they can't speak." adds Finnick, who I thought wasn't listening to the conversation.

"You're not allowed to speak to them, unless giving an order," finishes Lucius.

"What have they done?" I ask, strangely concerned for our servants.

"Probably something against the Capitol," replies Flavius. "Treason and the like. Not that it really matters much what they've done."

Maybe it doesn't matter to Flavius, but it does to me. I don't think anyone deserves this as a punishment. And I want to know more about the people themselves. What they did, and why. I find that I pity them. I guess there are just some things I'll never know.

At this point, the Avoxes collect our now-empty plates and leave the dining room with them, returning a few minutes later with our desserts. Large bowls filled with apple pie, another luxury in Four, full to the brim with cream. As we all eagerly dig in to our dessert, the television at the foot of the table turns itself on and begins the recap of the evening's ceremony. There are smiles all round the table, as both my and Maddie's first impressions are both eagerly complimented by both Claudius Templesmith and Caesar Flickermann. They notice Robin, the boy from One, made a good impression on the crowd too. Looking through the field, nobody except Twelve makes much of a surprise, with the shock being that District 12 weren't the laughing stock of the field this year. In fact, no-one really is; every district has done rather well. We still stand out along with One and maybe Twelve as early pacesetters in the race for sponsors, though District 2 can never be counted out until their tributes' cannons sound in the arena.  
After a round of congratulations from the team, Finnick asks that both me and Maddie retire to bed so that we're fresh for training tomorrow. Also, I think he wants to talk money with the adults, concerned about getting us the best possible sponsors.

Maddie takes her leave from the table, and I follow her from the dining room. We walk together down the corridor to out rooms, though when I reach my door, Maddie steps in the way of me, not blocking the door but indicating that she doesn't want me to go inside.

"Ludo, are you okay?"

It's such an open and seemingly innocent question that I'm shocked by it. Maddie seems to be concerned about me. Maybe she does still care. Probably not in the way I care for her, but I can't expect that of her. Still, just this little flashback to the Maddie of old leaves me feeling shocked and vulnerable. I can't work out whether she is genuinely concerned for me or not. Looking up at her, for she's three inches taller than me, the look of concern on her face is convincing. Still, I remember her good acting abilities from school, and for all I know, she could be lying. I don't she could gain from lying to me, but I don't want to trust her unless I'm certain she won't backstab me later. Oh, I hate these mind games. Why can't everything just be simple?

Still, she's right to show concern. I'm not okay. I've been troubled by the thought of the Avoxes since I saw them at dinner. Who they were. And how they became what they are now. I need to talk to someone. Family would be my first choice and Finnick second, but I'm several hundred miles from home, and Finnick has enough to sort out for me already, without worrying about this. A year ago, my third choice would be Maddie, but now I'm not so sure. We've barely spoken since the last Hunger Games.

I'm stalling, and Maddie notices. She nudges my elbow to grab my attention, as I've been staring emptily down the corridor towards her room.

"Never mind," she says, trying to laugh off the question she just asked. "If you need to work off some stress, why not head up to the roof? The view's stunning. If you need calming down, it'll really help."

I'm not sure what to make of this. It seems like the roof would be empty this late in the evening. I'm sure she's picked up that something is bothering me, and maybe she thinks I'll be more likely to tell her if there's no chance of our conversation being heard.

If so, her hunch was correct. I do feel like I'm being watched in this building, and it's slightly unnerving. And I would be more likely to tell her up there.

"I was going to head up now for a few minutes, to clear my head. I thought it would help with sleep tonight," she says, and walks away down the corridor towards the elevator. Halfway down the corridor, she turns and beckons me to follow her. I follow her into the elevator, despite my concerns at this. I'm not even sure if we're allowed up, and I don't really want to put as much as a toe out of line. I don't want to end up as an Avox.

Maddie programs the elevator for the roof. Floor 13. Even the fact that the floor number is synonymous with the fallen district that caused the Hunger Games we will compete in adds to my nerves. I really don't like this idea.

The elevator brings us out onto a small, dimly-lit corridor, with just one door at the far end. Maddie opens the door into a small, dome-shaped room. There's a stairwell in one corner, which I can guess leads down into District 12's floor. On the far side of the dome, there is a door that leads outside, onto the roof.

I take the lead and open the door out onto the roof. The view immediately takes my breath away. The whole Capitol is alight, twinning like fireflies in the night. It's eleven in the evening, and it seems like the Capitol never stops. The roads are still filled with traffic. I can hear music blaring somewhere in the distance, and lights are on in nearly all the multi-coloured buildings. I rest my hands on the metal railing at the edge of the roof, and stare down at the road, and along it towards the City Circle. It seems just as busy as it was earlier this evening.

A large screen on the far side of the road is still showing replays of the opening ceremony. It seems like the Capitol never gets bored of the Hunger Games.

Maddie stands close behind me, also admiring the view. She ends up resting her head on my shoulder, whispering softly into my ear.

"So, what's bothering you?"

I sigh, even though I knew that I would be asked this before I got in the elevator. I turn my head towards Maddie as I answer her quietly.

"Not here," I say. "I don't want to be overheard." She nods briefly in understanding, and drags me away from the edge, away from the mesmerising view. I follow her round the dome we came out from until we reach a small potted garden. It's surrounded by large potted plants, with a central flower patch. The whole area is covered by wooden decking.

Maddie takes a seat on a bench opposite the entrance, and I sit next to her. She seems to lean against me for comfort, and I find that I almost subconsciously put my arms around her. I doubt we're being watched now, but if we are, it'll just look like someone trying to reassure their scared or nervous friend. Whether Maddie is up against me for that reason or other reasons of her own, I can't help but enjoy the moment. Still, she wants an explanation from me.

I lean my head down onto her shoulders to whisper my answer.

"It's the Avoxes." I see her face crease in thought as she processes this information.

"What about them?" she whispers in reply.

"I'm not sure exactly," I say, trying to figure out exactly what's brought on these nerves. "I guess I feel like it's unjust to leave them in such a condition."

Maddie nods in agreement. However, what she says next shocks me.

"I understand."

"Do you?" I ask back, a bit louder than I intended.

Maddie looks up at me sharply, raising her finger to her lips as she does. She sighs, and then nods agreement to my question.

"I find them unnerving too."

"Why?" I whisper back.

"Because now I know what the Capitol do with people who've upset them, but can't justify killing."

And then the full shock of what Maddie has said hits me, and I feel ten times worse than I did before. Back home in Four, the population is generally pleased with the Capitol. The peacekeepers are less strict than in other districts, and we are rewarded more generously by the Capitol for what we produce. But some people in the district still disagree with the Capitol. The suffering in the docklands brings out the best in some, like Maddie, who takes tesserae for her family, or did at least, and the worst in others. Those fanatic few who see no way out except to defy the Capitol. Those few who either become better off or die trying, and I don't know many who haven't ended up with the latter of those options as the end result.

In our district, small offences such as theft or assault often lead to public whippings that take place in the square. These are quite commonplace, and regularly crowds are drawn to the event. However, there are some crimes that only death can be used as a consequence. Treason, for instance. I remember the last pair who tried it, last October. I can't remember what their plan actually involved, only the compulsory viewing of their execution in the square by our head Peacekeeper, Cornelius Sidebottom. If I had to list preferential ways for me to die, public execution by firing squad wouldn't be high on my list.

But then there are the others. The Capitol haters that can't quite face committing an act of outright rebellion. The ones who commit their own private rebellion, evading tax, speaking out against the Capitol in public or publishing anti-Capitol propaganda. The ones who inevitably disappear without a trace.

Just thinking about this is making me feel worse. I realise I'm shaking with shock. Maddie seems to realise this too, and pulls herself in tighter towards me.

She looks up at me, deeply concerned, before whispering.

"Remember Martius?"

I nod. It would be hard to forget. Martius was four years older than us, but we still knew his face from around school. I remember his father worked for mine in the fishing fleet. He was an only child from the docklands, but still took tesserae for both himself and his mother. Aged seventeen two years ago, he had eighteen entries. And he was reaped. Dead in two weeks.

His death in the 64th Annual Hunger Games left his parents shocked and desperate. Over time, they started up their own passive resistance to the Capitol. And now I can assume the Capitol got wind of it.

"What do you think happened to his parents?" Maddie asks, now appearing almost scared.

I take care to keep my voice down as I answer. I can't be overheard saying what I'm about to say.

"I remember the day they were discovered to be missing," I begin cautiously. "My father came home from work shocked and upset. His dad worked for mine, you see. I guess the peacekeepers came for them one night, made Avoxes out of them and sent them here to the Capitol."

Just saying these things seems like a shock, even though I now know them to be true. I don't want to continue speaking, but I continue. For Maddie.

"They're probably both dead by now," I say bluntly. "I can't imagine all Avoxes get a working environment as pleasant as the Training Centre."

The reply seems to silence Maddie. We sit in silence on the bench for a few more minutes, before I start to feel cold.

"It must be getting on for midnight," I say to Maddie, a bit louder than we were speaking before. She takes this as the opportunity to get up, and leaves my arms, giving me a hand up from the bench once she was up. We walk slowly away from the small garden, and back to the elevator. I feel glad that I've had someone to talk to about my problem, and even more glad that that person is Maddie. Maybe the nightmares will stay away tonight.

When we reach our floor again, I can still hear the others talking in the dining room. Maybe we haven't been on the roof for so long after all.

We walk down the corridor to our rooms together. When I reach my door, I turn to face Maddie.

"Thanks for tonight," I say to Maddie.

"No problem," she says, smiling so kindly that I realise she can't have pretended any of her emotions tonight. She genuinely does care. A sudden warmth rushes over me as I realise that while me and Maddie may never be the lovers I hoped we would eventually become, we will go into the Hunger Games as friends once more.

"I'll see you in the morning, Maddie," I say as I turn into my room.

"Night, Ludo."

Wow. What a long day. It's hard to believe that it's been fifteen hours since I woke on the train. And now I'm so tired. I can barely stand. I don't bother to change as I plunge into my luxurious bed fully clothed, and let sleep save me from exhaustion.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: A quick note here to mention that when I was struggling for names for some of the tributes, I took inspiration from other book series. For this reason, I would like to mention that the names (although not their looks or personalities) of the District 2 tributes have been taken from the following books:**

**Alex Scarrow- TimeRiders: Gates Of Rome (Quintus Licinius Cato)**

**Philip Reeve- Infernal Devices (Remora)**

**Also, thanks for following the story so far. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I do writing it :)**

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

**POV: Ludovic Robertson (15), Male Tribute, District 4**

**Floor 4, The Training Centre, The Capitol**

**8.30 am, Tuesday 10th July, year of the 66th Hunger Games**

* * *

I wake in a sweat, breaking free of dreams filled with Avoxes and hangings. Torturous, though at least I've woken well-rested.

It's already seems quite light in my room, a check of my clock tells me that it's half-past eight. Training starts in an hour and a half. By pushing back the curtains, I can see that the weather today is just as bright and clear as yesterday. It'd be a lovely week at home in District 4. But here in the Capitol, good weather doesn't do much to lighten my mood. I still feel the pressure of the Games, and we've barely started. Two days ago, I was skimming stones on the beach with Finnick. Now, we both wake to a Capitol skyline on a warm Tuesday morning.

I realise I'm still in my clothes from last night, and then remember how I rushed to bed after my time on the roof. Although I'm glad Maddie seems to be my friend again, I really need to push any thoughts about the Avoxes from my mind. I have to concentrate on preparing for the Games.

I force myself to get up and shower, remembering this time to get the shower to dry me when I finish. It doesn't go entirely to plan. My hair is still wet. Maybe by the time I leave here in a few days, I'll have managed to get the setting I want from the shower.

I turn to my wardrobe to get dressed, and find there's a note on the door. It's from Julia, telling me to wear the clothes inside the wardrobe for training. I open the door, and find a pair of tight-fitting trousers, a short-sleeved sea blue tunic and some black leather shoes. I slip the clothes on, and take care to dry my hair properly with a towel before heading down the corridor to the dining room for breakfast.

We weren't given an exact time for breakfast, and when I enter the dining room, I find both mentors, Maddie and Flavius all eating, and Finnick beckons for me to join them.

There is a long table filled with all sorts of food down the side of the room, and an Avox stands guard in the corner of the room at the end of the table. I ask the Avox if I can serve myself, and he nods assent.

I grab myself two rounds of toast, butter them, and pour myself a glass of orange juice before sitting down next to Finnick.

The adults are engaged in some sort of conversation about Capitol fashions, and Maddie is eating cereal whilst quietly listening. Now that both tributes are here, Flavius starts up a bright conversation about the next five days before the Games start, a week after the Reaping on July 15th.

"Including today," he begins briskly. "You have five days in the Training Centre. The first three days will be spent training for the Games, as you will improve both your survival skills and your skills with weaponry."

"Where will we be going for training, then?" asks Maddie.

"The gym is in the basement of the Training Centre," says Finnick, leaning across the table to inform her, and Flavius nods in agreement. "All twenty-four tributes will train together."

"What?" I say incredulously. This seems unfair to me. I thought they would be private training sessions. "How will that work?"

"In the gym, there are over twenty separate stations to attend, roughly half for survival skills and half for weapons training," explains Finnick, now directing his explanation at both me and Maddie. "Each station will have an instructor to help you learn the new skills."

"Won't everyone else be able to see our strengths and weaknesses?" complains Maddie, looking more than a little concerned with the training arrangements.

"Yes," says Mags. "But you will gain as much as you lose. Also, if you have any special skills that you don't want the others to see, save it for the third afternoon."

"What happens on the third afternoon?" I ask.

"You have fifteen minutes on your own in the gym with the Gamemakers watching you. Although they will be observing you throughout the three days, this is the one time you will definitely have their attention, and the one time you can show them your special skills without the other tributes seeing," explains Finnick.

"As for strategy in training," continues Mags. "You two should attempt to train together, visiting as many stations as possible, though make sure to cover all the survival stations. You don't want to end up being killed by the arena."  
It seems like a lecture from the two mentors, District 4's first and latest Victors, but so far me and Maddie seem to understand their meaning.

"What about the other tributes? asks Maddie. "Should we be considering alliances?"

"One and Two," says Finnick instantly. "We ally with them nearly every year, they'll be more willing to let you in than anyone else."

"In terms of the Career tributes, you've had a lucky year," says Mags, which fills me with optimism. "Neither of the other girls seemed to be much use, from first impressions."

"I agree with Mags," adds Finnick. "Make sure the boys, Robin and Quintus, are on your side before you enter the arena."

"I'll make sure of it," I say. "I've already spoken to Robin, and Quintus seemed amiable from a distance. Why don't I stay with the boys for the first day, and Maddie with the girls? That way we make sure we are all allied, then train as a group of six on days two and three?"

"Now that," starts Finnick. "Is a great idea, Ludo. I'd never thought of that before. Yes, you might as well give it a try."

"Well, it's already quarter to ten," says Flavius. "It's part of my duty to escort you to the gymnasium in the basement. Please follow me."

We follow Flavius to the elevator, which he programs to take us to floor 'B1', which I quickly realise means 'Basement 1'. When we reach the bottom of the lift, we come out at a long corridor. We see the gym doors at the far end, but Flavius stops us by the exit of the elevator.

"You'll be eating lunch down here, so I won't see you again until I pick you up at six this evening," he says, and me and Maddie nod to show we have understood him.

"Good luck," he says finally, before getting back in the elevator. I follow Maddie down the corridor to the gymnasium doors, which open automatically for us.

I find that I'm worried about meeting all the other tributes close up, but I needn't have worried. Only six others are here. Blaine and Isabella from Seven, Robin and his partner, and the two from District 5. They stand in a close circle, which me and Maddie join. All the other tributes have their district numbers pinned to their backs, and an assistant quickly arrives to pin a large number '4' to my back, before doing the same to Maddie.

We watch the others gather slowly over the next ten minutes. Just as I had suspected yesterday, not many of the tributes appear to be serious threats, though I'm still intimidated by the boy, if I can call him that, from District 9. He must be a foot taller than me. No doubt the Career Alliance will try to silence him quickly in the arena. Finally, the last pair, the tributes from District 8, arrive. At this point, the head trainer, who is a young woman called Atala, steps up and begins to explain the training schedule. We can travel freely around the gym to whatever training station we choose, as per our mentor's instructions. There will be experts on hand at each station to give advice. Some stations teach us fighting techniques, others survival skills. The only rule is that there will be no fighting with other tributes. If we wish to practice with a partner, assistants will be available.

Atala then reads out a list of available skill stations. Some of them seem rather pointless to me, such as knot tying and climbing, as they are skills I've known all my life. Others, such as edible plants and archery, take my notice. I have next to no experience in those areas.

My eyes wander away from Atala and towards the other tributes. On a level playing field, I can already pick out the easy targets. The boy from Twelve. The girl from Six. Both tributes from District 3. Everyone seems to be looking around nervously, with the exception of the other Careers. I wonder how I appear to everyone else. Some of the tributes look in really bad shape. They have clearly come from the poor parts of their district, the equivalent of our docklands. Like the boy from Twelve, and both from Districts 3 and 6. Although Maddie may be from the docklands, she's managed to keep her head above water, and whilst she may be thin, she looks strong.

However, I get the opposite impressions of the tributes from One and Two. Although it's illegal to train tributes for the Hunger Games before the Reaping, our district along with Districts 1 and 2 train young adults for the games from the age of twelve, then volunteer when they're eighteen. Unlike the other two districts, ours only volunteer for absolute no-hopers. They're just a safeguard for the very youngest in the Reaping. The last time a Career volunteered in our district was three years ago. They died. Slowly and painfully, pinned to a tree with a knife through their throat. Not a good message for our current crop of trainee Careers. Most years, the Victor is one of these Careers, most commonly from District 2. Although this training is illegal, the Capitol turn a blind eye to it. It doesn't matter to them, as long as the Careers put on a good show.

I notice the other Careers eyeing up some of the smaller tributes hungrily. They have the same idea as me. Aside from District 1 and my district, the only other district that made a distinct impression on the public was District 12. Although the girl looks well fed and decently built, she's a lot shorter than the four Careers standing on my right. Not so much of a threat after all. I wonder if it's worth trying to draft her into the Career Alliance. I guess I should ask the others first.

Atala dismisses us to start our training, and I see many tributes, mainly those from the outlying districts, head straight for survival skills. I can't imagine kids in Eight get much experience of the wild, having grown up with factories all their life. It's no surprise I see both at the fire-lighting station.

I try to make my mind up where to go, but before I can decide I hear someone call my name.

"Robertson!"

I turn to find the voice coming from Quintus, the male tribute from Two. I think he'll be the major threat in this year's games. I'd guess he's over six feet tall, and whilst being on the thin side, he's very muscular. I'm sure there's more to him than his physical threats. He'll be well-trained for sure.

He stands with the other five who make up what I believe will be this year's Career Alliance at the archery station. I head over to him quickly.

"So, Robertson," he begins.

"Please, it's Ludo."

"Ludo?" he replies. We have no time for getting to know each other on a first-name basis in this Alliance, lad." He looks over his shoulder to the small, dark-haired girl that is his District partner. "Isn't that right, Thornby?" The girl nods in agreement.

He turns back towards me. "As for me, the name's Cato. Quintus Licinius Cato." He offers his hand out towards me, and I grasp it quickly.

"Welcome to the Alliance, Robertson," he says, seeming pleased to have me on his side. It's quite clear to me that Quintus (or should I say Cato?) is the one calling the shots in this alliance.

At this point, Robin steps in to take control.

"Can I suggest we get started?" he says jokingly.

"Of course, Hurst," replies Quintus. "Remember our ideas for the morning, girls?" he asks, directed at his and Robin's district partners.

"Yes, Cato," the girl from Two smiles, and she heads off to the axe station, whilst Robin's parter goes to the sword station.

Quintus then turns to me and Maddie.

"This morning, the plan is to intimidate the opposition. Show off everything. Scare the other tributes. Let them believe you mean business," he says with a slightly malicious grin.

Maddie nods and runs off to join the girl from District 1 at the sword station. I stay at the archery station with Quintus and Robin. There are three bows on a bench to our right, and a seemingly endless supply of arrows. The dummies that are our targets are spread out between twenty and sixty yards down the archery range from us. The expert at the station is evidently used to Careers being able to shoot well, and makes no attempt to guide us as we take our places at the range.

Robin grabs a bow, and immediately starts firing arrows down the range. I can tell he's a good shot very quickly. Five of his first ten arrows hit the furthest dummy in the head. Three more hit its chest.

As I grab a bow, Quintus does the same. Whilst we watch Robin continue to fire arrows, I notice that some of the other tributes have taken notice of him, and stand staring from around the gymnasium. How scared of him they must be.

As Robin finishes firing his third batch of arrows down the range, Quintus leans in close to me and speaks to me in hushed tones.

"So Robertson, how much training did you do before the Reaping?"

"A little," I reply, though that's not directly true. Prior to last summer's Games, I had been helping Finnick train, and I might have picked up a few skills along the way myself. But other than that, I've done nothing.

"What weapon do you favour?" asks Quintus.

"The trident," I reply. Yet again, this isn't strictly true. I'm good at using them for fishing. I've never tried using one as a weapon.

"Well, I'm going to be honest here with you," starts Quintus, looking slightly disappointed. "After how well your pal Odair did with a trident last year, I can almost guarantee there won't be one at the cornucopia this year."  
I find this slightly demoralising, even though I've never tried using a trident as a weapon. I thought it could have been a strength of mine. After all, it worked for Finnick.

"Are you good with anything else?" Quintus asks hopefully.

"I guess I can cope with knives," I say, yet another half-truth. We had an arts and crafts week at school during the spring, and I did well using crafting knives. Maybe I could use that skill as a weapon.

"Hand-to-hand, or throwing?"

I hadn't even anticipated this question. I know my hand-eye co-ordination is good, so I should do fine with hand-to-hand knife combat. I'm also confident about throwing. No, I've never actually thrown a knife, I'm too conscious about other people's safety to try it. But I know I'm a good stone skimmer. I'm sure the same skills and control can be applied to throwing knives. So when I reply to Quintus, I reply with confidence.

"Both, Cato."

"Good," he replies, smiling. "We'll go to the knife station after lunch. Ever tried archery?"

"No," I reply. At last, something I'm certain I've answered correctly.

"Not to worry, follow my lead. And watch Hurst as an example."

Quintus grabs a bow and stands next to Robin on the range. I take my bow and stand between the other two boys.

With the help of the other two tributes and the expert trainer, I find archery easier than expected. Although the bow feels odd in my hands at first, I quickly adjust to it. The trainer shows me how to hold the bow correctly, how much power to use when drawing the bowstring and how to compensate for the arrow dropping in flight. By the time we break training for lunch, I'm reasonably accurate at distances up to thirty yards.

At lunch, all six Careers sit together, discussing our experiences of the morning, discussing our strengths, working out plans for the arena. Aside from Robin's obvious talent with a bow, neither me nor Quintus have shown much. Quintus is better than I am with a bow, though that's not surprising, given his six years of training compared to my two hours.

Remora, the girl from Two, is strong despite her size, so she is good with spears and axes. Likewise, the girl from One excels in hand-to-hand combat due to her agility. I learn that Maddie is surprisingly good with a sword. I wonder where she picked up that particular skill. Not that it matters now.

In the afternoon, me, Robin and Quintus go straight to the knife station. Although I'm only slightly better than average in hand-to-hand combat, I'm easily the best of us three at throwing the knives. I can hit the furthest dummies in the chest quite consistently after an hour's practice.

After the knife station, we head to weightlifting, Quintus' area of expertise. I don't do terribly, but it's certainly no strong point of mine. I'm the weakest of us three. Although all three of us are slim and rather athletic, Quintus has the edge on me and Robin due to age alone. He's three years older than me, and two older than Robin. Still, his physical power is incredible.

On the second day, we concentrate on survival skills. In these, I simply excel, as do Robin and Quintus. I can build good shelters, my knot-tying skills are good and I can construct decent snares. Lighting fires is second nature to me; I regularly built them with Finnick on the beach in the bay at home in District 4 when we had caught surplus fish from a catch and needed a snack. The only survival skill I struggle with is edible plants. Although I know the plants native to District 4, I doubt many of them will feature in the arena. After two hours at the station, I walk away defeated, still not able to tell nightlock apart from blueberries. I'll just have to hope the rest of the Career Alliance are competent with their plant-recognising skills.

That evening, when eating dinner on the fourth floor with our mentors, Finnick and Mags demand a full review of the strengths and weaknesses of this year's tributes, in as much detail as me and Maddie can explain.  
"Now, District 1," starts Finnick. "Robin Hurst. What's he like?"

"Strong, quick and well-trained. I think he could be a threat at one point." I reply, which makes me feel a little upset. I've got on well with the boy from One.

"Is he part of your alliance?" asks Mags.

"Yes, definitely," replies Maddie. "He's brilliant with a bow, too."

Finnick raises an eyebrow having heard this.

"How good?"

"Accurate to over sixty yards," I reply.

"Well then, you two need to stay friends with him for as long as possible," says Finnick. "What about the girl?"

"She's strong in hand-to-hand combat, but she's arrogant," says Maddie.

"Is she ally material?" asks Mags.

"She's in the alliance, though I can't imagine she'll side with us if a dispute occurs."

"You'll have to get rid of her quickly, then," laughs Finnick. "What about the tributes from Two?"

"Cato's great, a really solid all-rounder," I say. "And he's really strong."

"Cato?" asks Mags.

"Quintus," I reply. "He wants our Alliance to be seen as superior to the other tributes, so he insists that we call each other by surnames only." I turn to Maddie. "Isn't that right, Harper?" We all laugh at that.

"Well, this 'Cato' sounds quite arrogant to me," concludes Finnick. "I'd keep close to him. He'll need watching."

"I don't like the girl from Two, though," continues Maddie.

"Ah, Remora Thornby. What's she like?" asks Finnick.

"Twisted," replies Maddie, sounding a bit disgusted. "She's rather sadistic. And she doesn't like Ludo."

I'd be lying if I say I haven't noticed this myself. Whenever I look over at the girls in training, she always seems to be giving me suspicious looks. It's quite unnerving really. Hopefully our eyes won't have to meet much once we're in the arena.

And so the process continues, with our mentors asking about our fellow tributes. To find out who the weaklings are that need to be weeded out early on. To know who our biggest threats are. To know who we're possibly allying with.

"So," says Finnick when we finish our description of Sophia, the girl from District 12. "You're currently allied with the four tributes from One and Two, correct?" We both nod, and he continues. "Aside from the other Careers, your biggest threats are the boys from Seven and Nine, and the girl from District 12."

"Yeah, though I doubt any of them will ally with us. The outlying districts all hate our Alliance too much to consider joining, and Blaine won't leave his younger sister," I say.

"So, what plan does your Alliance have?" asks Mags.

"Storm the cornucopia, gather the best supplies, split up weapons between us and go and finish off the weaklings."  
"If the Alliance holds," adds Finnick.

"Well, I thought we'd carry on even if we all hate each other," says Maddie sarcastically.

"I'll be honest, I think the Alliance will split before the field is down to six," I say.

"If the alliance does split, who will side with who?" asks Finnick, looking concerned.

"I'm not sure," starts Maddie. "But I assume Robin will side with me and Ludo. The girls won't, and Quintus could go either way."

Well, I didn't expect that. Maddie seems to assume I'm willing to stick with her. She's right, but her level of trust in me astonishes me. But I shan't complain about it.

With my new-found knowledge that the girls from One and Two dislike me, I spend all of my time on the morning of the third training day with Robin and Quintus. Having got all the serious training out the way in the first two days, we spend our time messing about at the knife station, taking turns throwing knives over our heads or through our legs at the targets. I've always been told not to play with knives, and I never have, but I think I'm permitted to have some fun for once, considering my situation.

I find that I get on even better with the two boys than before. We laugh with each other, we joke about, and through talking, I find we have similar interests. Robin climbs trees. And Quintus is very artistic in his spare time, and I have a good conversation with him concerning my attempts at wood carving.

Although I hadn't expected a Career tribute to be an artistic type, I guess he needs something different to do when he's not training to become a ruthless killer.

After a thoroughly enjoyable morning, I realise that if Robin and Quintus had grown up in Four, we'd probably have become good friends. It's a shame we'll be trying to kill each other in three days.

We start to get called out of lunch for our private session with the Gamemakers. District by district, the boy first, then the girl tribute. We each get roughly fifteen minutes to impress the Gamemakers.

As Quintus heads into the gymnasium alone, I begin to get nervous. All the tributes get given a score by the Gamemakers before the Games begin, to indicate their level of potential from training to possible sponsors. The score goes from zero to twelve, with zero being irredeemably bad, and twelve being unattainably high. Most years, the top score is a ten. Nobody has ever pulled a twelve in sixty-five years. Careers always hit sevens at minimum, so there's already some pressure on me.

Tributes don't come back once they've gone into the gym. Around fifteen minutes after the tiny girl from three left, I'm called into the arena by one of the Gamemakers. As I walk in, pause at the door of the gym.

_This is it,_ I think. This is my first true test of the 66th Annual Hunger Games. I take a deep breath to calm myself and walk inside.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry, but this is my shortest chapter yet. I've tried to match the sequence of events in the first Hunger Games book with my story, and I couldn't get much to fill in for this chapter. The last one was longer than most, so I guess it balances out :) **

**Thanks again for continuing to read my first story, and there will be more chapters soon :)**

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

**POV: Ludovic Robertson (15), Male Tribute, District 4**

**The Gym, The Training Centre, The Capitol**

**2.30 pm, Thursday 12th July, year of the 66th Hunger Games**

* * *

It seems odd to be alone in the gym. Well, nearly alone. There are still twenty-four Gamemakers watching my every move from a balcony on one side of the gym. They sit in chairs overlooking the gym, dressed in long, flowing purple robes. I recognise a couple of faces from television interviews, such as Tiberius Greenwood and Seneca Crane.

When I'm unsure where to go to first, one of them calls down to me to show them some weaponry skills. I go straight to the knife throwing station. I hit the dummies reasonably consistently, even those at long range, though I know I need to try something more ambitious to really get their attention. I turn to the practice dummies on the archery range on my right. The closest one is about fifty yards away, much more distant than the hardest targets on the knife throwing station. This could be the thing that sets me apart from other tributes. I take aim, and throw.

I know everyone gets luck at some point, but this really was my lucky break. My knife hits the dummy. Right in the eye. I could have just gained me an extra point from that throw alone. I doubt I'd be able to do it again, bit the Gamemakers don't know that.

I leave the knife throwing station before I can dent my record, and decide to show off my survival skills. I build a quick fire, tie some good knots, and build what I think is a good shelter, considering I only spent five minutes building it.

Just as I finish building the shelter, a Gamemaker tells me my time is up, and dismisses me from the gymnasium. I give a quick bow, and turn to leave. I would have liked to have re-visited the archery station, but I guess there wasn't time for everything.

I feel the pressure lift almost immediately as I step in the elevator to return to the fourth floor. Although my session didn't go perfectly, I doubt I'll have got a really low score. It should be at least a six; I made no blundering errors.

I return to my room to catch up on some sleep, as I have the afternoon to myself whilst the other tributes entertain the Gamemakers.

As I lie in bed waiting for sleep to take me, I find my mind drifting away to other places. To home. I turn over so that I can see the clock next to my bed. It's half past two in the afternoon. It's been four days since the Reaping, so it's a Thursday. Thursday 12th July, to be precise.

Right now, my father will be at work in the docks, coaxing his men back into life after their lunch break. I know what many of the men from the docklands are like. They're hard workers, but difficult to motivate to begin with. I know that father struggles at times with getting them all back to work.

As it's a Thursday, mother will be out fishing. It might not sound like much, but as she's had to stay at home to look after me and Bella, she doesn't work in the grocery any more, and she and a few other housewives from the rich part of Four devote Thursday afternoons to fishing, eager to do their part for the community.

Fishing seems to unite all of us in our family. My father fishes all week, my mother on Thursdays, and I fish on Sundays with Finnick. It unites all of us, except Bella...

I sit up in bed, and open the curtains on the window in my room enough to peer out at the outside world. It's a lovely summer's day, and the bright sunlight radiates down on the shining Capitol. Somewhere out there, amongst the gleaming skyline, there is Bella. Busy realising her dream. She is a fashion stylist now. She might even be well known, but I have no way of finding out. It would be nice if she can become well known, famous even. That way, the Robertson name can continue to mean something due to her, even after I am gone.

Another look at the clock tells me it's after three. There's no point in trying to get any sleep now. I'll have to be up in two hours.

After a morning of physical exertion, I realise I need to shower. I take my time, wanting to fill up the next two hours without leaving my room. I'm not ready to go into detail about my session with my mentor yet. I just want to relax for a while. Once I am clean, I dress in clothes that are more casual than my training attire.

I then pass my time by ordering some chocolate to be sent to my room, which I slowly nibble whilst I sit on the end of my bed, thinking about home.

After a while, my thoughts return to the other tributes, and their sessions with the Gamemakers. I'd guess either Robin or Quintus has the highest score, though I wouldn't be surprised if any of the Careers get the highest score. They're all rather lethal. Then again, so am I, I guess. I wonder how Maddie's session went. I hope she gets a high score. I want her to do well in the Games. I don't know what I'll do if we're the last two alive. But hopefully I'll have plenty of time to prepare for that decision. If I ever need to make it.

At five-thirty, Flavius calls me for dinner. Everyone else is already present at the table, and I find a seat between Maddie and Julia. Everyone is here, at the Gamemakers' scores will be announced shortly after dinner. I guess everyone is eager to hear how my session went, and to find out what score I got.

As I sit down, Flavius eagerly asks the question thank I can tell everyone's eager to ask.

"So, how'd it go?"

"Not bad," I say. I'm still in a rather thoughtful mood, and not up for much talking.

Finnick still wants to find out more, though. "What did you do?" he asks curiously.

"I threw some knives, lit a fire and built a shelter," I reply quickly.

"And did you do well?"

"I think I did reasonably at what I attempted," I say, trying to recall my session. "I wanted to attempt archery, but ran out of time."

"That doesn't matter," replies Mags reassuringly. "It sounds like you did plenty enough to impress them."

Considering what my mentors have said, I find I'm positively anticipating the scores being announced. Still, I wonder how Maddie feels about this.

"How was your session?" I ask her.

"It went okay," she says, and shrugs. "I swung a sword about, threw some spears and lit a fire."

"How was it?" I ask.

"The sword station went well, and the fire was good," she begins. "Though I missed a few targets with the spears."

"That doesn't really matter," I say, trying to cheer her up. "I missed a few targets with my knives, but as long as most of them hit the target, I'm sure you'll still get a good score."

This seems to brighten her up considerably, despite only being partially true.

"Thanks, Ludo," Maddie replies, smiling.

After dinner, we head over to the sitting area and watch the mandatory viewing of the announcement of the scores. As we turn on the television, we see Caesar Flickermann, the host for the evening.

I look around me, and find Finnick on the sofa beside me, with Maddie, Mags and Lucius opposite, and Flavius and Julia standing behind them. Everyone is here for the big moment.

Caesar announces the scores in the order that we took part in our private sessions, starting with Robin. For each tribute, a close-up picture and their score is displayed on the screen.

I'm not surprised when Robin pulls a ten. It's usually the highest score given out by the Gamemakers, and his archery almost guaranteed it. His partner, who I find out is called Pearl, scores an eight.

Rather predictably, Quintus matches Robin's score, and Remora gets a nine. This is usual for the Career alliance.

District 3 has low scores, a three and a four.

Then Caesar is reading out my name. I try to recall my private session. From memory, it was strong but not perfect. My score reflects that review perfectly. I get an eight.

Eight! It might not be the best score, but it definitely shows me as a contender. A true Career. I get congratulations all around from my team, and hugs from both Finnick and Julia. They know this is a massive boost to my chances in the arena.

We all calm down to see Maddie's score being announced. She looks paler than usual, evidently stressed by the event. I see her face lift when she finds out she's matched my score. I feel pleased for her, not only as she no longer has to worry about not being seen as a threat, but because this will help me. Tributes from the same district often help each other in the arena, and as both of us scored highly, sponsors will definitely take notice.

The celebrations continue more earnestly now, and by the time we have settled down, the face of the boy from District 9 is on the screen, and a large number nine is flashing below it.

I can't say it wasn't expected, but I'm a bit shocked that a tribute from an outlying district outscored me, one of the Careers. I'm sure Quintus and Robin will quickly silence him. Wait, what am I thinking? I'm letting this score go to my head. I mustn't get too arrogant. Arrogance leads to mistakes.

The scores for Districts 10 and 11 are mediocre at best, and the only other high-scorer is Sophia from District 12, who gains an eight for herself.

After a long, tiring and somewhat stressful day, I quickly retire to my room to sleep. I drift off to sleep feeling many mixed emotions, mainly joy and relief at my training score.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

**POV: Ludovic Robertson (15), Male Tribute, District 4**

**Floor 4, The Training Centre, The Capitol**

**9.00 am, Friday 13th July, year of the 66th Hunger Games**

* * *

I wake to the sound of thunder. My clock tells me I've slept in later than usual. It's nine o'clock. I shower quickly, dress myself and head to the dining room for breakfast.

Finnick is the only person there, eating a round of toast.

"Today, I've got to coach you for your public interview tomorrow night," he begins.

Oh, I remember this. Two days after the training scores are released, all the tributes have a three-minute interview with Caesar Flickermann on a stage in front of the Training Centre. Over fifty thousand Capitol citizens attend every year, and the interviews are a mandatory viewing in all the districts of Panem.

"This is a good chance to win sponsors," he continues. "And every tribute needs to find some angle of their personality to use during the interview. Creating a character for yourself will get you more sponsors."

"What angle will I play?" I ask curiously.

"I'm not sure yet," says Finnick. "That's what today is for. To find out what angle suits you best."

After breakfast, we go into the sitting room, where Finnick briefs me further on the interviews.

"The interviews take place with first the boy and then the girl from each district. You'll be the eighth one. Half of your training will be with me, about the content of your interview. The other four hours will be spent with Flavius, who will assist you with presentation."

He directs me to a seat opposite him, and sits down, frowning. We sit in silence for a few minutes, until he looks up at me, looking a slightly frustrated.

"I'm not sure what angle to use for you," he says.

"Why?"

"Because the safest thing to do is to be yourself in front of the cameras. That was what I did last year, and I got plenty of sponsors."

"So what's the issue for me?" I ask.

"If you try and be yourself, you'll come out sounding like me. We have very similar personalities." He's right. If it wasn't for looks, people could think we are related. We act very similarly. "The Capitol audience won't be won over by the same thing twice in two years, so you won't get many sponsors if you try to be yourself."

"I see," I say, feeling disappointed. "Well, let's try lots of different angles for me, and see what fits."

Finnick brightens at this idea, and pretends to interview me while I act in various ways. Cheery works quite well, as I'm good at being friendly to people. Fierce and hostile are useless; I probably couldn't intimidate a five-year-old. I'm too gentle. I always have been. And I'm sure I always will be. Until I enter the arena.

We try humble, though considering my score and reputation as a Career tribute, who are known for confidence, this doesn't go down well.

I try other angles, though I can't think quick enough to be witty or funny, and I'm not sullen enough to be mysterious.

As the hours slowly drag by, we have a good idea of what angle to play. Somewhere between confident and arrogant. As though the Games aren't a big thing. Shrug off concerns and act like it's just for a laugh. It's totally wrong, but it might win me sponsors. It's typical for a Career, or a high-scoring tribute from an outlying district. I remember seeing someone play this angle really well in Hunger Games replays on television a year or so ago. I think it was a Victor. Thinking about it, it was that drunk from Twelve. The one who won the Second Quarter Quell. Yeah, he had this angle down to a T.

We practice this angle continuously for my final hour with Finnick, until we break for lunch. After lunch, Flavius will coach me on presentation.

Flavius takes me to my room for my training. I sit down on the bed, while he paces around my room restlessly.  
"I'm going to be honest with you, Ludo," he begins, slightly frustrated. "This time for presentation is mainly meant to help the girls prepare. There's little I can do for you now, because there's little that can go wrong."

He spends half an hour with me, essentially picking over the finer details of my posture, and making sure I say all my answers clearly so that the audience don't miss a word. Then he says there's little else he can do, and gives me the afternoon to myself. Considering the fact that the Games start in less than forty-eight hours, I think that the best thing I can do with my time is sleep. I want all the energy I can get for the arena.

I eat dinner with only Finnick and Julia. The others are still training Maddie for her interview. I guess she requires more work than me, they've spent over eight hours on her already.

After a lot of small talk with Julia, Finnick turns to me to congratulate me on success so far.  
"You've done well so far," he begins. "You stood out in the opening ceremony, you scored an eight in training, and you're a member of the Career Alliance. All that remains is your interview."

"Finnick says that you coped very well with him and Flavius," Julia adds enthusiastically.

"He's right," I reply, feeling quite confident about the interview. "Thanks to them, I really think I know what I'm doing."

"There's just one thing left," says Finnick, gesturing at Julia. "And for that, I have to hand you over to Julia once again."

I turn my attention to my stylist, who offers me an explanation.

"Tomorrow, you will spend all day with me and your prep team, as we will help you get ready for the interviews. I'll expect you up early, as we want to get ahead," says Julia. "We're playing it safe with style, so that you don't lose support by looking stupid."

I'm thankful for Julia's decision. At least I won't be made a fool of on live television.

That evening, I get to bed early so that I can rise early, as per Julia's instructions. But it's too hot and I can't sleep well, and I am eventually woken up by the sound of my prep team knocking on my door.

I realise that as today is the day of the interview, this is my last full day in the Capitol. That thought leaves me a little nervous as my prep team start work on me. This time tomorrow, the 66th Annual Hunger Games begin. For real.

Mostly, the prep team does the same things to me today as they did on Monday in the Remake Centre. The one thing I can clearly remember is the thick cream they applied to my face to stop me from growing any facial hair once I'm in the arena. Not that I'm old enough to grow any decent amount of facial hair, anyway.

My prep team seem to spend all their time with me trying to use what seems like a million methods to get me to a state that Felicity calls 'Beauty Base Zero'. Apparently, this is when I look natural but flawless.

They finally finish working on me late in the afternoon, at which point I'm handed over to Julia. She was right about her choice of clothing. It's sensible, but should still attract attention. It's rather simple; just a light blue suit. But it's rather striking and makes me very noticeable. It can't really backfire on me, but I won't be considered the best-dressed of the tributes, either. I'm glad Julia is taking no risks on me.

On the way to the interviews, we meet up with the rest of District 4's team. In the elevator, I notice how all of our team seem to be fancied up for the occasion. After all, the stylists and mentors will be on display too. Finnick and me are in complimenting outfits. This doesn't really surprise me. The commentators and announcers have been making a big thing about how Finnick volunteered to save me last year, and about how close we are. No doubt Caesar Flickermann will ask me the about Finnick during my interview.

Julia is wearing the same dress that she wore when I first met her. She gave me a good first impression, and I'm sure the crowd will get a good view of her, too.

Lucius has gone for the formal look, hoping not to attract much attention for himself, dressed in a black suit. Flavius, however looks casual yet smart, wearing the same high-collared fabric coat as he did at the Reaping, six days ago.  
And then there is Maddie. She is wearing a long turquoise gown, looking like a much more elaborate version of her dress for the opening ceremony. And she looks so beautiful in it. Her whole face looks perfect. Whatever magic her prep team has used has ensnared me. She looks perfect. I have to entertain myself with the view of the Capitol skyline whilst I'm in the elevator to stop myself from staring at her.

When the elevator opens, all the other tributes are lined up to go onto the stage, which is set up at the front of the Training Centre. The tributes are lined up in order of their interviews, so I slot in behind Maddie and ahead of the girl from District 5.

As I line up, I start to feel nervous, but I know I should. I've done public talks before, though the two hundred kids at school is a different scale to the whole nation. This, quite literally, is the biggest stage of all. But no matter how nervous I've been beforehand, I've always managed to get the words out. I'm sure I can do it again. Only this time, my life is on the line.

Right before we parade onto the stage, Finnick and Mags come up to us, and wish both me and Maddie good luck. Then we're alone, marching out onto the stage to face thousands of eager viewers.

Although it's evening, I'm dazzled as I head onto the stage, and then I take notice of over fifty stage lights bearing down on us. The intense light starts to make me feel hot and uncomfortable. The twenty-four tributes take seats in a semicircle at the back of the stage. There are two seats in the centre of the stage. One for the Caesar Flickermann, and one for the tribute being interviewed.

I look out into the audience. The City Circle is packed with spectators. There's standing room only. There's elevated seating for prestigious guests, and I can see the stylists on the front row. Balconies on all the buildings are filled with rich Capitol citizens who paid a premium price for a better view. I see the Gamemakers on a balcony high up to my right.

Then the crowd erupts as Caesar Flickermann bounces onto the stage. He seems exactly the same as he does every year. The same pure-white make-up. The same hairstyle, that this year is dyed lime green. The same ceremonial suit, midnight blue and covered in hundreds of tiny, twinkling electric bulbs. Aside from the costume, Flickermann must have had surgery to keep his age. Surgery that no doubt would cost more than a whole street of houses in District 4.

I notice that his eyelids and lips are also coloured lime green which makes him look quite freakish. Still, it's better than last year's pink.

Caesar makes a few jokes to warm up the Capitol crowd, before introducing the first tribute, District 1's Pearl. She struts over towards Caesar Flickermann, radiating arrogance. This is a usual angle played by Careers, and one I'm using a little myself. Nevertheless, her interview goes down well with the audience.  
Then it's Robin's turn. Then Remora. Then Quintus.

Then it's the turn of the small, shy girl from District 3, and I suddenly feel much more relaxed. Caesar really tries to help you out if you are struggling. He really tries to make you shine. He laughs at lame jokes, tries to calm your nerves, and always reacts in a way that makes your every word memorable. I play my angle even before it's my interview, looking barely bothered by the event, slightly slouched my chair, trying hard to look as though I'm not really paying much attention to the interviews. In reality, I'm listening to every word. Picking up on what everyone else has to say.

Everyone seems to be playing an angle. Pearl is arrogant, Robin is amiable. Remora is ruthless, Quintus is jovial. The two from Three try to act weak, to hide their abilities, but it doesn't seem to work out as well for them as the interviews for the first two districts. And then Maddie's name is called.

It's obvious what angle she's playing. Innocent. That she can't see how she got such a high training score, that she's not that well prepared, and doesn't want to become a ruthless killer. It all seems rather convincing, but the fact that she's from District 4 undermines the whole angle for her. Being from a district with a reputation for ruthless Careers can give anyone doubts about a tribute trying to appear innocent.

And then Caesar is calling Ludovic Robertson to the stage. I walk numbly to the centre of the stage, almost paralysed with nerves. I shake Caesar's outstretched hand, and take a seat opposite him. This is it. This is my moment to show myself to the world.

"Now, Ludovic-"

"Please, it's Ludo."

Well, that was a mistake. I should have held my tongue, but nobody calls me by my full name. It's just a pet hate of mine to be called Ludovic. It doesn't seem right. However, Caesar doesn't seem bothered by my interruption.

"Now, _Ludo_," he continues, eager to get on with the interview. "How's the Capitol?"

"Good," I say, almost without thinking. I know this isn't to the plan, but I can't help but be friendly to the kind, helpful man that's interviewing me. I was just trying to be polite, but I find that my answer was truthful. Overall, I have enjoyed myself in the Capitol.

"What have you enjoyed the most of your time here?"

"The food," I say. I see that Caesar is still looking intently at me, as though asking for me to say more. "Back home in Four, the diet's just fish, fish and more fish. At least there's some variety here."

This gets a small laugh from the audience, and I pull off a small smirk myself. Caesar then continues onwards.  
"Aside from the benefits of Capitol life," he continues. "What about the things you have done since you arrived? Ludo, tell us all about your training."

I sit back in my chair, eager to appear relaxed. I take a deep breath, and begin. "After what I've heard past Victors say about training, I thought it would be really tough. But it wasn't that hard at all."

"Sounds like someone's confident," laughs Caesar, at which I give a small shrug. "So, how do you feel about your good training score, which for those of you in the audience who can't remember, was an eight?"

"It's alright," I say.

"Alright?" Caesar replies, yet again asking me for more information.

"I guess I could have done better."

"Then why didn't you?" he asks.

"Well, an eleven would single me out as a target, wouldn't it?" I say, giving another small smirk. "This way, I know I've kept some things secret from the other competitors," I say. I don't really have any secret talents, but the others don't know that. The only other tributes who know are Robin and Quintus, and they're on my side. I guess a few might think I'm double-bluffing, but I guess I've got a few of them scared. I want to be feared by the low-scoring tributes in the arena. That way, they won't pick a fight with me, unless they desperately have to.  
"Like what?" Caesar asks out of curiosity.

"I guess everyone will have to wait and see," I reply.

"Now, looking ahead to the arena," continues Caesar, keen to move the interview on to a new topic. "Do you think you'll be siding with tradition, and forming an alliance with the tributes from Districts 1 and 2?"

As Caesar asks this question, I take a quick glance at Robin and Quintus, and see Quintus give me an almost imperceptible nod.

"I think I can safely say that we'll be working together closely for the forseeable future."

Caesar nods in understanding and moves on.

"Now, Ludo, when the Games draw to a close, what do you reckon are the odds of you and me having another interview on this very stage, with you as a Victor?"

Now this is something I haven't prepared for. But I remember telling my parents that I'll never win, though I know that's not true. There is some chance. Maybe it was kinder at the time, but I really should give them some hope now. To show them that I haven't yet given up.

"Well, maybe the odds aren't really in my favour," I begin. "I mean, it's one in twenty-four, right? But I think I've got as good a chance of winning as any of the other tributes," I say confidently.

Caesar opens his mouth to ask another question, but at this point, the buzzer sounds, indicating that the three minutes of my interview is over. I have survived the ordeal.

I'm applauded all the way back to my seat. Now that the pressure is off, I can sit back and watch the other squirm under the pressure. It might not be good of me, but I can't deny that some of the tributes are amusing to listen to. Some of them are very strong, though, such as the brother and sister from District 7, Blaine and Isabella.

In what seems like no time at all, we're onto the final tribute, the twelve-year-old boy from District 12. I still don't know his name. I guess it's best if I don't get to know it at his stage. The less I know about him, the less pain I'll feel if and when I kill him. He does remarkably well, despite his age and size. He doesn't seem nervous at all.

And then his interview is over, and the final tribute returns to his seat at the back of the stage. We all stand together for the national anthem of Panem, raising our heads out of required respect for our country. Required respect for the country that will kill all but one of us. Somehow that doesn't seen right. But I guess there's no time left to question the Capitol's motives now. After all, the Hunger Games are only twelve hours away.

* * *

**A/N: And so ends Part One! Now that I've gotten quite far into the story, I'm quite keen to hear what you think. If you've enjoyed it so far, please review :) It helps to know what people like and dislike, so that improvements can be made :) Constructive criticsm is welcome :)**

**Thanks again,**

**GM97 :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Pt. II- Pain**

**Chapter Ten**

**POV: Ludovic Robertson (15), Male Tribute, District 4**

**The City Circle, The Capitol**

**10.30 pm, Saturday 14th July, year of the 66th Hunger Games**

* * *

After the anthem, we head back into the foyer of the Training Centre whilst Caesar closes out the broadcast. Only the tributes are here. Our mentors and stylists haven't managed to make it back through the crowds to the Training Centre yet. So we ride the elevators without them. My elevator contains only Robin, Quintus and myself, so I ride half the journey alone. I arrive back on my floor and wait for the others in the sitting room. Maddie arrives shortly after I go. I stand up to meet her.

"How did that go?" I ask, smiling.

"Well, I think," replies Maddie, returning my smile. "I think I looked good to the audience,"

"Well, they seemed to like you," I say. She did get a far longer applause than most of the tributes.

At this point, the rest of the team walk in: Finnick, Mags, Flavius, Lucius and Julia. All of them look ecstatic.

"Congratulations!" says Finnick, who rushes over to praise me. Julia follows, and we embrace over quickly-said words of praise.

"Now all the hard work is done," says Finnick cheerily. At first I realise this is good, but then I remember it means that I'm even closer to the Games. The truth in his words is both a blessing and a curse,"

"You did well in everything," adds Julia. "You caught the attention of many at the opening ceremony, you scored an Eight in training, and you shone in your interview. Most of my friends were won over by you," she says, beaming.  
Well, that's news to me. I guess my interview was a success. I was worried that I hadn't played my angle enough, but I guess I did. At least that's one weight off of my shoulders.

Flavius puts the television on, and we all gather round to watch a replay of the interviews. It turns out Julia is right. The angle that I play is very convincing, and along with Robin, I stand out towards the sponsors. No doubt we'll be the ones getting the most parachutes in the arena. If we survive long enough to need them.

Despite my initial concerns, Maddie does well, as does Quintus. The interviews seem to have been kind to the Career Alliance this year. All the tributes that stood out were Careers. On the contrary, our largest threat from the other districts, the boy from Nine, lost a lot with his interview. He appeared dull, uninteresting and sullen, and had little applause as he returned to his seat. Still, I think a lot of rich Capitol citizens will sponsor him, based on his physical prowess alone. Being 6 foot 4 tends to help at the cornucopia early on.

Soon we're watching ourselves stand for the anthem, and as the music finishes, the screen fades to black. Flavius stands to complete his final duty as our escort. He explains to me and Maddie that we will be woken at dawn tomorrow and prepared to the arena. We will then fly to the currently-unknown location of the arena, before the Hunger Games finally start at 10 am.

As he continues, I know that tonight will be the time for goodbyes. Flavius and Finnick won't travel with us tomorrow. Only tributes and stylists make the journey to the arena. When we leave the Training Centre, Flavius, Finnick and Mags will go to the Games Headquarters, where they will stay for the remainder of the Games. While they are there, they will be trying to sign up as many sponsors as possible for me and Maddie, and hopefully trying to work out a strategy of how and when they will deliver the gifts from our sponsors to us.

Meanwhile, Lucius and Julia will stay with us, all the way to the place from which we are launched into the arena. I don't need to say my goodbyes to them yet.

Firstly, I turn to Flavius, and thank him for his hard work, for helping me stand out so much in preparation for the Games. He tells me it's been a pleasure to work with me, and I genuinely feel touched by his gesture. I surprise myself by this, as I've only known him for a week, although it already seems like he's been with me for half my life, and I'll genuinely care about him when he's gone. Well, he's been kind and very helpful. All I could really ask of an escort, really.

I then turn to Mags. Although we never really spoke much, she still wishes me luck in the arena, and I thank her for it as I say my final goodbyes.

Finnick then taps me on the arm, and I fling myself towards him for what seems to be a very long and steady embrace. I don't want to get emotional, but I can tell I will. As I pull away from him, I can see the tears in his eyes. I look around the sitting room, and notice that everyone else has left already. At least I won't feel self conscious if I cry.

We stare at each other, trying to imply the words that we both mean but can't bring ourselves to say.

"So," I begin, eager to break the silence. "Any last tips for tomorrow?"

"Don't trust the other two girls," he says, trying to remain calm. "The girls from One and Two, I mean. As soon as the Alliance shows any signs of breaking, distance yourself from them. Get someone else on your side. Preferably Maddie, Robin or Quintus. If possible, all three. Together, you should easily overpower the other two."

"Should I still try and fit in with the Alliance as much as possible?" I ask.

"Yes," Finnick replies. "You don't want to raise suspicion. Let Quintus play as leader if he wants to. Just make sure someone will always be on your side in case the Alliance splits. It doesn't sound like it's too stable."

"It all relies on Quintus," I say. "If he dies, we all split. We only stay together so he's on our side."

"I see," says Finnick, nodding slightly.

"So, aside from Alliances, any other advice?"

"Stay alive?" says Finnick, shrugging. "What else can I say? I've no idea what terrain you'll be thrown into. Just keep a calm head and use your initiative. You'll find a way to survive, I'm sure of it."

Finnick glances up at the clock on the wall. It's half past eleven.

"You have to be up early," he says, looking at me again with tears in his eyes. I know what he means by this. This is time to say goodbye. We share an even longer and more sincere embrace than before, and when I pull away I see that Finnick has silent tears running down his cheeks. I realise I'm crying too when he starts taking again, barely louder than a whisper.

"Good luck tomorrow, Ludo."

The words almost get stuck in my throat, but I force out a reply.

"Thanks," I begin, my body threatening to completely collapse. "Take care, Finnick."

I see a flicker of recognition in his eyes before he turns away quickly and almost runs out of the room. It only takes a few seconds for me to realise that I will never see him again.

I run down the corridor to my room, barely containing my tears. I don't bother to change, and fling myself into bed fully clothed. As the room fades to black, I find the darkness holds no protection from sorrow. I let the tears come, and I cry for Finnick, for all the good times we had, for all the good times the Games will prevent us from having.

After what feels like hours, I stop crying myself out, and my grief turns to anger. I pretend to take out my anger on Flavius, Julia, every person in the Capitol, anyone responsible for the Games, Tiberius Greenwood, the Hunger Games themselves and many other things by punching my pillow repetitively. I end up trying to take my anger out on Finnick as- Finnick! No, this isn't right. I must try and calm down. I need to be calm and composed. I must try my hardest to win. If not for myself, then definitely for Finnick.

After what feels like eternity, I calm myself down to a reasonable, controllable level of anger. Only then does fatigue get the better of me, and I slip away into sleep.

I'm woken by Julia, who hurriedly gets me up and dressed in simple clothing before I'm fully awake. I'm quickly guided to the elevator, and escorted to the roof of the Training Centre by my stylist.

I notice the sun has just risen above the Capitol skyline. As I look around the rooftop, I remember the night I spent up here with Maddie. How many days ago was that? Four? Five? I can't remember.

Suddenly, a hovercraft appears out of thin air above me, and drops a ladder down onto the roof. As I place my hands and feet on the lower rungs of the ladder, some sort of electric current freezes me in place. I appear to be stuck to the ladder, which keeps me perfectly safe as I'm hoisted upwards into the hovercraft.

Once I'm inside, I'm approached by a young Capitol man in a white coat, who inserts something deep in my left forearm before I can object. When I ask what he did, he says he inserted my tracker. Trackers are used by the Gamemakers to keep track of all the tributes once they're in the arena. The last thing the Gamemakers want is to lose a tribute.

From above, I see Julia being collected from the roof. When she joins me in the hovercraft, an Avox man collects us both and escorts us into a room where we are served breakfast. After my traumas concerning them on my first couple of days in the Capitol, I've managed to come to terms with the Avoxes. At least it's one thing off my mind before I enter the arena. As we fly towards the arena. I look out the window over the view of the Capitol. I've never flown before, and the city looks even more breathtaking from this vantage point. Soon we are travelling over the wilderness beyond the city, though I see little of it before the windows black out, suggesting we are close to the arena. The Gamemakers wouldn't want tributes getting a sneak peek at the arena.

As the hovercraft lands, me and Julia once again leave by ladder, only this time the ladder takes us underground, into the catacombs that lie beneath the arena. We follow instructions given to us by an Avox as we navigate our way through the maze of tunnels to our destination, a chamber for my preparation. Julia calls in the Launch Room. In District 4, I've heard people call it the Stockyard.

The whole room feels brand-new. Then I remember it is; this arena will only be used once. I will be the only person to ever use this Launch Room.

Having eaten on the hovercraft, all I do to prepare myself is shower quickly and clean my teeth. Then Julia, who had left to fetch my clothes, returns. She has had no say in my outfit today; all the tributes wear the same clothes.  
I am given simple dark brown trousers, a khaki sleeveless vest and a khaki long-sleeved top, which is made of cotton. The top is also hooded. Khaki. The word itself is almost synonymous with desert. The worst terrain possible for a tribute from the fishing district. I try not to dwell on this as I put on the rest of my attire. I'm also given a sturdy leather belt and some fingerless leather gloves. Finally, I'm given Khaki (again!) socks and soft leather boots with grippy rubber soles.

Julia helps me dress, and when I am finished, she pulls the silver brooch Finnick gave me before the opening ceremony from her pocket. My district token. The one Finnick wore into the arena last year. I try hard to push the thoughts of Finnick to the back of my mind. I can save them for after the cornucopia bloodbath. If I make it.

"Where did you get that?" I ask.

"I found it on your bedside table in the Training Centre a few days ago. It had to be cleared by the Gamemakers before I could let you have it in the arena," explains Julia. "They had to check your district token couldn't be used as a weapon."

She pins the brooch to my chest, high up on the right side.

"Thanks for looking after it," I say. I'm glad I'll have something to remind me of Finnick when I'm in the arena.  
"No problem," replies Julia, smiling. I try and return the smile, but I'm too nervous make a good job of it. I glance at the clock on the walk of the Launch Room. Five minutes to ten. I could be dead in ten minutes.

As I think this, I hear a pleasant female voice come through the speakers in the corner of the room, telling me it's time for launch.

Julia quickly grabs my attention. "When you're on your plate, remember not to move for the sixty seconds until the gong. And remember what Finnick told you. Don't trust Pearl and Remora," says Julia quickly as she leads me to the circular metal plate that will take me upwards into the arena.

As I stand on the plate, Julia embraces me before moving away to let me be taken upwards into the arena.

"Good luck, Ludo," she says, trying to calm me.

I don't have time to utter a reply. A glass cylinder lowers itself around me, and I can no longer hear the outside world. I try and stand straight and keep my head high. I want to appear confident as I come out into the arena. All the cameras will be trained on me.

The cylinder begins to rise. I have chance to see Julia wave at me before I'm plunged into darkness. For fifteen or twenty seconds, I ascend in darkness. Then I feel the metal plate beneath my feet push me into open air, and I'm suddenly dazzled by what I believe at first to be bright light shining at me from every direction. As I come out fully into the arena, I'm struck by immense heat. It takes me a few seconds to realise where I am, and oddly I'm reminded of a game I used to play at home.

When I was very little, Bella used to play many games with me on rainy afternoons to keep me entertained. This one was by far my favourite.

The floor is lava.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Finally, after about a month an a half of writing, I'm up to the actual Games. I'm not sure about some of the description at the start of this chapter, though I can't think of a better way of writing it. Please let me know if you find anything confusing :)**

**May the games begin :)**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

**POV: Ludovic Robertson (15), Male Tribute, District 4**

**The Arena**

**9.59 am, Sunday 15th July (Day 1 of the Games), year of the 66th Hunger Games**

* * *

The floor is lava. Only the twenty-four metal plates stand above the layer of fire. After taking ten seconds to regain my composure, I can see the golden horn of the cornucopia is on a metal plate of its own, extending out about ten metres from the horn. In the thirty metres in between that plate and my own, there is only fire. I assume that there will be a way to reach the cornucopia once the gong sounds. If there isn't, this year's Victor will just be the last tribute to succumb to the heat and fall from the lava into the fire. I'm not a betting person, but if I was I'd put a lot of money on the Gamemakers not letting that happen.

I'm vaguely aware of the familiar voice of Claudius Templesmith announcing the start of the 66th Hunger Games, but I don't let his voice break my concentration.

I look behind me, and I can see that there is more to the arena than lava. About twenty metres behind me, the lava ends, and desert begins. It's not good, but desert is still an improvement on unbearable heat. Beyond the desert, I can see a tall mountain, though it appears to be miles away. I don't even know if the arena will extend that far. Regardless, I doubt I'll try to reach it.

By looking beyond the cornucopia, I can see forest. Thick woodland is an improvement over anything. The forest must hold water. There won't be any in the desert.

My attention returns to the cornucopia. Although a few supplies lie at the edge of the plate, everything that is of worth seems to be stacked high in the mouth of the horn. Even though I chose not to go along with it in favour of the Career Alliance, this layout of supplies eliminates the possibility of using Finnick's strategy this year. There is no way of only running ten or twenty metres in. This year, it's all or nothing. The supply layout and the arena all seems very biased against Four this year. Evidently, the Gamemakers want a more level field this year. They want to reduce the strength of the Careers.

I realise I must only have ten or fifteen seconds left before the gong sounds, and my attention turns to my fellow tributes. On my immediate right is the boy from District 6. He only scored a four in training. No doubt he will steer clear of me at the start. On my left stands the girl from Five. Another weakling. My path to the cornucopia could be rather easy.

I then look around for my allies. Robin is four plates round to my right, and Quintus is directly next to him. They'll stick together at first, then. I can't see Maddie; she must be obscured by the cornucopia. I notice Pearl is almost directly opposite me. I guess Maddie is near her.

The only other tribute I have time to note before the gong sounds is Sophia, five plates to my left. As the gong sounds, nobody moves, we have nowhere to go. I look across the circle of confused tributes to Robin, and he shrugs at me. Evidently, this has surprised him as much as me.

After about ten seconds, two metal platforms start extending from the plate we were required to stand on. They travel outwards from my plate in opposite directions. One away into the arena, one leading to the cornucopia. I choose to stand on the one leading to the cornucopia. It extends slowly, and I realise I will have at least another thirty seconds before I reach the cornucopia. I look up and notice about fifteen of the tributes travelling towards the cornucopia. And then I realise what the lava is meant for. It stops the race to the supplies. Most years, the Careers get their hands on the weapons first because they are the fastest sprinters of the tributes. I could tell Robin and Quintus were relying on that advantage when they spoke of rushing to the cornucopia during training. Now the Careers are just six of possibly twenty-four tributes arriving at the cornucopia simultaneously. I no longer feel so confident about our strategy.

As I look around, I notice that both of the tributes that were next to me at the start have taken the other platform, the one forming a pathway away from the cornucopia. I'm not surprised, considering their size. Still, I'm slightly annoyed as at least a day will probably be wasted later in the Games hunting the other two.

I turn my attention back to the cornucopia, as the circular platform is now only five metres away. I notice two tributes reach the platform before me, and I notice that it's Robin and Quintus, who are already sprinting to the mouth of the horn. No doubt they jumped the last couple of metres. I would never have taken that risk. I might have gone against my parents' orders concerning playing with knives, but I draw the line at playing with fire.

As I step onto the main platform, all hell breaks loose. Robin is fumbling with the lid of a case at the cornucopia, and Quintus already has a knife. I run towards them, but another boy runs at me, armed only with fists. I duck his punch and trip him as he charges past, and he falls flat on his face. I turn and run in the opposite direction, almost straight into Pearl, who dodges me as she heads to the cornucopia. Out of the corner of my eye I see Blaine wrestling with the boy from Nine over a backpack, and I watch in horror as the two tributes slowly fall backwards towards the lava. As I turn away, I know almost immediately that the haunted look in Blaine's eyes will never leave me.

I turn again, running straight into the girl from District 10, who somehow has a one-handed combat axe. As I dodge her swing, the handle of her axe comes down hard on my shoulder. It hurts, but it's nothing serious. I duck and punch her hard in the stomach before she can swing again, knocking the wind out of her. She drops to her knees, and the axe falls out of her reach. I dive on it, claiming it for myself. As I stand, I realise I should finish this helpless girl. Killing someone who is fighting you is one thing, but killing a weaponless girl on the floor is another. The momentary lapse as I decide what to do means that my decision is made for me. I watch helplessly as an arrow is driven straight through her. Right through the neck. I turn to see Robin, bow in hand, beckoning me in to the cornucopia. Pearl and Quintus are defending the mouth, and I run through between them to the supplies.

The supplies in here could last all of our Alliance for at least a month. Food is plentiful, and there are enough sleeping bags for at least one each for all twenty-four of us. There is a myriad of weapons available. Three bows, including the one Robin already has. Five quivers of arrows. Three swords, two spears and over twenty knives of various lengths. The longest two look good for hand-to-hand combat, but I eye the smaller ones. They look ideal for throwing. I throw my combat axe to one side, and grab the largest knife and put it through my belt, as it will be of great use if I get jumped by one of the other tributes. I then take two smaller knives, one for each hand, and leave the cornucopia just as Remora arrives. There's blood on her shirt, so she's obviously wasted no time in starting killing.

Outside, the Careers have started to disperse, all of them heavily armed. A few tributes are running away from the cornucopia down the now-complete pathways formed by the plates from our starting positions. Most of these tributes carry injuries.

Many more lie dead on the floor. I don't know the how many exactly. In the arena, a cannon is fired every time a tribute dies. Only on the first day, no cannons are fired until the bloodbath is over. It's almost impossible to keep up with the deaths until then.  
Just from looking at the small part of

the platform that I can see, there are at least four dead. Well, two of them are definitely dead, and judging by the quiet whimper coming from a third, they will shortly be joining the other two in death. The fourth has lost a leg below the knee, and will surely bleed out. Still, he tries to return to his feet, and so for the moment he is still a threat. Quintus realises this at the same time I do, and strides purposefully towards the boy, plunging his sword through the fallen tribute's chest, who instantly collapses.

Me and Quintus turn our attention to the far side of the platform from the mouth of the horn, and we find one girl running away down one of the pathways, with one of her legs injured above the thigh. I throw the small blade in my right hand at her and it makes contact with her back between the shoulder-blades. She crumpled forward due to the impact before toppling sideways from the pathway into the lava, engulfing herself in the flames.

Although I know I've just killed someone for the first time, it leaves little impression upon me. The only thing I can think about is how good my aim was. I only lost one knife. I switch my remaining knife to my right hand, which I favour for throwing. This doesn't seem right, it just feels hollow inside. Maybe it's just because I'm in the bloodbath. Maybe if I last long enough to see the death recap tonight, I might feel grief then.

Quintus follows me round to the back of the cornucopia, where the last fight of the bloodbath continues. Maddie is on the floor, grappling with another girl who I can't see enough of to recognise. They roll about trying to get the other into a submissive position. I can see the glint of a blade reflecting as they tussle, though I can't tell who it belongs to.

Remora stands behind them, making no attempt to intervene. Maybe she enjoys watching them fight. The fight does seem even, and if it wasn't for the circumstances, I'd find it appealing to watch, too. Although there used to be fights at school, there were very few that were good for spectating. Most are too one-sided to be entertaining. I would relish this at school, where the worst outcome would be a few bruises and a stern talking to by our headmaster. But here in the Hunger Games, I can't allow this to continue.

I run over to the two girls on the floor just as Maddie gains the upper hand, pinning her opponent to the deckplate. I can see now that the knife is hers. She's holding it at the other girl's throat.

"Steady on, Harper," I say, trying to call off the fight before either girl is killed. If the other girl is a near-even match for Maddie, she could be useful for the Alliance. She doesn't release the other tribute, still staring intently into the eyes of her adversary. I move forward to physically split the pair aside, but Remora gets in my way.

"What's the problem, Robertson?" she asks, tormenting me.

"Nobody else needs to die here," I say. "If the girl's nearly a match for Maddie, shouldn't we let her join our Alliance?"

"Nobody else is joining the Alliance, Robertson," responds Quintus, backing up his district partner.

"Quiet, Cato," moves Robin, coming to my rescue. "Give her a chance. If she's useful, she gets to stay. If not, then we'll give her back to Maddie. She's her kill,"

Quintus considers this idea, before moving aside to allow rest of us to get close to the two girls on the ground.  
Maddie looks down at the girl pinned beneath her, and moves her knife from the girl's throat. Now that the girl is surrounded on three sides by the Careers and on the other side by lava, Maddie gets up and joins the circle of Careers.

I can now see that the defeated tribute was Sophia, the girl from District 12. It's not a surprise she was a match for Maddie, as both scored eights in training.

It's evident Quintus is only half convinced as he moves even closer to Sophia, towering above her.

"What's your name, girl?" he barks at her.

"Sophia," she replies meekly, not daring to look into any of our eyes.

"Full name?" asks Quintus again, evidently not satisfied by his first answer.

"Sophia Mellark," the girl replies, her voice barely above a whisper.

"What district are you from, Mellark?" he asks again.

I'm actually amazed by Quintus. I'd have thought such a strong fighter would know a lot more about his opposition than he does, but evidently his arrogance extends beyond his pretence as group leader. Evidently he was so confident with the abilities of the Careers that he didn't bother to do any research on the tributes from the outlying districts.

Maddie chips in to save Sophia from having to answer again.

"She's from Twelve."

Quintus now turns to the rest of us.

"How'd she do in training?"

Oh dear, he's more hopeless than I thought. Evidently Robin agrees with me, as he struggles to stop himself from laughing as Quintus asks us.

"She scored an eight," replies Remora.

"Eight?" says Quintus incredulously, looking down at the girl with raised eyebrows. "Well, if she wants to tag along, I guess she can," continues Quintus. He turns to the rest. "Personally, I'm finding it rather hot here, so I say we move out. Gather up everything you can carry and move it all over to the edge of the woods. We'll set up camp there."

He then turns back to the cornucopia and is quickly followed by Pearl and Remora, leaving me, Maddie and Robin with the newest member of our alliance.

I'm actually shocked by Quintus. Not only is he arrogant, but he's prejudiced as well. His apparent shock when he found out Sophia's training score tells me all that I need to know about Quintus. Whilst he took a warming to me because of my 'Career' reputation, he won't give a girl who got the same training score as me any respect just because she comes from an outlying district.

When the other three are out of sight, I offer my hand to Sophia and pull her to her feet.

"Sorry about Quintus," I say. "He's a bit blunt."

"Welcome to the Alliance, Sophia," says Robin, smiling at the girl from the coal district. Robin doesn't seem to have an issue with her, and I can tell Maddie doesn't either.

"Sorry about attacking you," says Maddie. "I only attacked because I thought you were going to attack me first."

"I only attacked because you were the one with the knife," replies Sophia, and both girls laugh. At least there's no tension between any of us four.

"Sophia, while you're a part of this Alliance, I suggest you do exactly as Quintus says," advises Robin as we walk slowly towards the cornucopia. By now the other three are at the edge of the woods, unloading supplies from their backpacks. Quintus stays to guard our supplies, whilst the two girls return to the cornucopia to gather more supplies.

When they arrive, we are there waiting for them, and we pack their backpacks full of supplies for them to carry across to Quintus. When they leave, Robin continues to speak to Sophia.

"Quintus seems to want to act as leader," he explains. "As part of this, he wants us to refer to each other by surnames only. He thinks it makes us superior to the other tributes for some reason."

"Just go along with it, Mellark," I say jokingly whilst packing apples into a bag. This makes everyone laugh.

"Just saying, you don't have to use surnames when he's not here. When he is, just humour him," adds Maddie. "I can't imagine anyone here wants to get on his bad side."

"I think both Remora and Pearl enjoy power, too," finishes Robin. "I'd use surnames around them as well."

I agree with Maddie. If Quintus gets mad at any of us, I doubt we'll get away unscathed. He's the strongest physically that's still alive, after District 9 fell in the lava. I shudder involuntarily as I recall his end.

Pearl and Remora return again with empty rucksacks.

"I reckon one more trip should be enough," says Remora, dumping her backpack on the floor in front of Maddie. "Fill us up again, Harper."

"Who are you to boss her about, Thornby?" snaps Pearl.

"Who are you to boss me about, White?" retorts Remora.

"I'm fed up of you two arguing," interrupts Robin. "Everyone grab everything you can and get out of here. It's too hot, and we need to set up camp."

That silenced the girls. They fill up their packs and leave quickly before the rest of us finish packing. I can hear their argument resume as soon as they leave the cornucopia. Argue is all those two seem to do.

Robin and Sophia are the next to leave, and me and Maddie grab the last few pieces before quickly leaving. These are the sort of things that will probably never come of use, but that we don't want to risk leaving behind, such as face masks, that we would use if we go into the desert. I doubt we'll ever go in there, though. Still, we take the masks just in case.

Once the cornucopia has been stripped bare, me and Maddie turn to leave. The sunlight seems more concentrated than before, and a look up at the cloudless sky tells me that it is already the middle of the afternoon.

Just as I step onto the pathway to the woods, the first cannon fires overhead.

I now know that all the tributes that were left at the cornucopia are dead. I just have to count the cannons to find out exactly how many were killed. One... Two... All the way up to eight. Eight dead already. The pool of tributes is already down to sixteen. Seven of those are in the Career Alliance. That leaves just nine more out in the arena, waiting to be hunted down. We won't find out exactly who those nine are until after sunset, until the death recap.

I arrive at the edge of the woods to find everyone unpacking supplies from the backpacks. Once everything has been laid out, the first things to be given out are the weapons. I get the set of knives, with the exception of one long one that is given to Robin. Robin also keeps his bow. Quintus has a sword and a spear. Remora gets a machete, and Pearl finds herself a large combat knife. Maddie takes a bow, and I give Sophia my combat axe after Quintus doesn't assign her a weapon. I find I'm liking Quintus less and less by the minute. Despite being allied with Sophia, he either doesn't deem her worthy of a weapon or doesn't trust her with one. I'm not sure which motive I prefer.

Once we're all armed, Quintus assigns us jobs to complete so that we can set up camp quickly. In response to his orders, I spend the afternoon in the woods with Maddie, gathering firewood. We work silently, as the arena has already started to drain most of us, mainly due to the unbearable heat, even when the lava is far behind us. We don't travel far into the woods, as we don't want to lose ourselves or run across any of the other tributes. After a short while, we slowly head into a small clearing in the woods. The terrain has travelled slowly but steadily downhill, so the cornucopia is no longer visible. I guess we're about four hundred yards from the edge of the forest.

We find a fallen tree amongst the long grass in the clearing, and me and Maddie sit on it to gain a few minutes of rest before continuing with our work. Out here in the woods, I feel more relaxed than I have in days, as though I no longer have to worry. I know this isn't the case, but a lot of my nerves have been due to uncertainties in the arena. Although this arena isn't the best for me, at least now I know what I'm up against. As for the tributes, all the major threats are on my side. For now.

As if reading my mind, Maddie sparks up conversation with me.

"What do you think of our Alliance then, Ludo?" she asks.

"It won't last," I say, starting to wonder what the implications of my previous statement might be. "The girls don't get along with me, Quintus hates Sophia and I'm starting to dislike him too."

"How long do you think it'll last?"

"Honestly, a few days. A week if we're very lucky," I say, now realising how I will need to prepare for the moment the Alliance breaks. Not only will I want Maddie on my side, I'll need at least one or two of the others. Not Remora or Pearl, I don't trust them. Robin hopefully, and maybe Quintus. I've no idea about Sophia. I've only really spoken to her briefly, and even then there were more important things on my mind. Such as escaping the lava.

Maddie has gotten up and is drifting round our clearing, searching for more firewood within the knee-high grass. After gathering a couple more pieces, she comes back over to me to put them in her backpack, which lies behind me, resting against the fallen tree. As she bends over to reach for her backpack, she whispers in my ear.

"Ludo, after the Alliance fails, can we still stay as a pair?"

Good. Maddie still wants me. At least I won't be alone when our Alliance ends. I'll still have Maddie. That delays my decision even further. Whether I can bear to see her die. Hopefully it will be a decision that I will never have to make.

As she looks up at me after asking her question, I reply to Maddie with an almost unnoticeable nod. I see a flicker of recognition in her eyes, and I know that she will stay with me.

I can only briefly enjoy this moment before the quiet peace of the clearing is shattered by an explosion.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

**POV: Ludovic Robertson (15), Male Tribute, District 4**

**The Arena**

**1.00 pm, Sunday 15th July (Day 1 of the Games), year of the 66th Hunger Games**

* * *

The look in Maddie's eyes is gone, replaced by another expression: fear. The cannon has sounded. Somewhere, another tribute now lies dead. We're down to fifteen.

We both get to our feet quickly, weapons at the ready. For all we know, that cannon belonged to a Career. Or if not, Sophia. I grab my half-full bag of firewood and run uphill to the cornucopia.

I'm slightly out of breath when I reach the edge of the woods. When I arrive, I'm shocked, though not for the reason that you might expect. Twenty yards in front of me, I see our newly-built camp.

One of us has gathered long, thin branches and driven them vertically in the ground, and a sheet of blue tarpaulin that we found at the cornucopia has been tied to the branches, giving us shelter from the rain. A central area has been left roofless, and I can only assume that this is intended to be where the fire will be. The whole shape is octagonal, and seven of the eight sides have hammocks tied between the two upright branches. One for each of us. The eighth side is an entrance, facing towards the woods. All of the supplies are kept under the hammocks. This seems logical, as nobody would dare take supplies that are literally two feet under a sleeping Career. Considering my concerns about our alliance, everyone seems to have worked rather efficiently. But this isn't what shocks me. Around the cornucopia, the lava is gone. Completely.

Where there was lava, there is now only a hundred yards of hard-packed dirt and grit. The cornucopia remains in the centre on its metal plate, standing out in its isolation. This seems so odd.

My allies are still here, though. Evidently it wasn't one of their cannons that fired. Pearl is lying in a hammock, presumably asleep. Robin is talking in hushed tones to Sophia, sitting on the dirt floor in the centre of the hammocks.

Quintus and Remora are on the far side of the cornucopia to me, searching the edge of the woods for any sign of the latest death.

I start to walk towards our camp when Maddie catches up to me. I notice her eyes widen when she sees the cornucopia.

"Where's all the-"

"I've no idea, Harper," I reply, remembering to use Maddie surname now that we can be overheard. "You know as much as I do."

Maddie then turns her attention to the tributes at camp, calling over at Robin to find out what we've missed. Unfortunately, Maddie was too loud to stop Pearl waking, and I soon begin to realise first-hand why Maddie has grown to dislike Pearl.

"Watch it, Four!" she screams. "Some of us need sleep, you know!"

Great. She's short-tempered and sarcastic as well as violent. Still, Maddie seems to want to fight fire with fire.  
She shrugs in Pearl's direction before replying to her.

"Sorry, I didn't realise anyone was lazy enough here to sleep while the rest of us worked."

I take a step back before I realise what I'm doing as Pearl leaps down from her hammock and strides over to Maddie, knife in hand. Pearl grabs Maddie by the front of her shirt, and despite being a few inches shorter than Maddie, manages to stare straight into Maddie's eyes, their faces only inches apart.

I can see the rage in Pearl's eyes as she spits out her threat to Maddie.

"I'd be careful to stay in line, Harper," she begins, raising her knife to Maddie's throat. "Another comment like that, and you might find yourself going the same way as District 6."

I have to make the point that for all of Pearl's threats, Maddie hasn't so much as moved an eyebrow. She has stood her ground and stared Pearl down, her eyes just as cold as her adversary. I find myself realising I'm lucky to have Maddie on my side. I wouldn't want to have to face anyone who can appear so emotionless. But Pearl still isn't intimidated. Her knife remains at Maddie's throat.

"You wouldn't dare, White," taunts Robin. "You lay a finger on her, and you wouldn't reach the woods before you have an arrow through your neck."

Although she doesn't avert her gaze from Maddie, I notice her intimidating expression falter momentarily as the reality of Robin's words hits her. Maddie now takes the opportunity to grin cockily at Pearl, knowing Pearl wouldn't dare an attack. But still both girls stare into each other's eyes. After a few more long seconds, Pearl drops Maddie's gaze, turns on her heels and stalks away into the woods without saying another word.

I let out a sigh as me and Maddie join Robin and Sophia at camp, and we pass the remainder of the afternoon talking. I find myself lying in a hammock, staring across a lot at Maddie, who lay down opposite me. Robin sits upright in his hammock, eating an apple.

"What happened with the lava, Robin?" I ask, using first names now that Pearl has left.

"About ten minutes after you left to get wood, the hovercrafts started coming," he replies. I know what he means by this. Once a tribute is dead, their body is collected by hovercraft, and sent back to the Capitol, where it is cleaned, packed in a wooden box, and sent by train back to their district to be buried. It speaks volumes to me that while the Capitol willingly let twenty-three district children die each year, they still respect them once they are dead. At least the Capitol isn't low enough to disrespect the dead, which was something I believed they did until a few years ago, when I began to fully understand the Hunger Games.

"Once the hovercrafts left," says Sophia, carrying on Robin's story. "The lava was covered over by this plate of dirt. I think the lava was just for the spectacle. I guess that even by Capitol standards, it would be extremely expensive to maintain a man-made lava lake for several weeks."

This last comment surprises me. Sophia seems to have taken a simple decision by the Gamemakers and analysed it in detail. I had assumed that her eight in training was entirely down to her physical abilities, as she had been a good match for Maddie earlier at the cornucopia. However, maybe some of her score was due to her intelligence. She certainly seems bright. Brighter than the rest of us, for sure. Or maybe just more knowledgeable. Either way, she'll be of use. I'm sure this analysis shows she'll be able to think like the Gamemakers, and be able to anticipate their moves. She'll be a useful member of the Career Alliance. I decide I want her when the Alliance splits.

The arena has cooled off dramatically by the time Pearl returns in the evening, and the rest of us are lying in our hammocks around the fire that is burning in the centre of our camp. Everything is silent as the sun sets on Sunday, except from the faint crackling of the fire and the occasional birdsong from the forest, which is gradually finishing as the birds head to sleep.

I'd guess it's about nine in the evening now. It seems odd that I was on a hovercraft less than twelve hours ago. So much seems to have happened since then. The cornucopia bloodbath. Watching Blaine and District 9 burn. Killing that girl. I don't even know who it was. I guess I'll be finding out in the death recap, which I'd guess is only ten or twenty minutes away. Us building camp. Gathering firewood with Maddie. Her confrontation with Pearl. All in a day's work at the Hunger Games.

As Pearl stalks in, Quintus grabs her attention.

"Where've you been creeping off to, White?" he asks with an authority in his voice that demands an answer.  
"I've been scouring the edge of the woods," she replies openly. "I was looking for a kill, in order to show some people-" she glares at Maddie "-that they should give me the respect that I deserve."

"Well, from the look of things, District 1, and more specifically the sound, no cannon has fired," responds Quintus, keen to show his authority.

Well, that shut Pearl up. After staring indignantly at Quintus for a few seconds, she quickly turns to pull herself up onto the only remaining hammock. I look across to see Robin trying not to laugh again. It seems to amuse him to watch the others try and make themselves appear stronger and more fearful than they actually are. Then again, he can laugh about it. His training score shows that he is a match for anyone in the arena.

"Right then," continues Quintus. "Tonight, we should go out hunting for the majority of the night. We should hopefully get rid of two or three more weaklings."

"We won't all need to go, will we?" I ask.

"Someone has to defend the supplies, dimwit," snaps Remora, sneering at me. This is the first time I've actually spoken to her in conversation, and I find her just as abrasive as Pearl. No wonder Maddie prefers my company.

"We should probably keep two people back," adds Robin. "Five people hunting is more than enough, and that way if anyone is foolish enough to attack our camp, then even if they're lucky enough to kill one guard, they'll still be killed by the second man."

"I agree with Hurst," says Pearl, eager to join the conversation. "We don't need everyone, and it's best to keep camp as secure as possible."

"I'll third that," pipes up Sophia, who's been very quiet all afternoon. Evidently she's not as comfortable with the others as I am. Then again, she didn't have three days with them in the Training Centre.

"It's final, then," concludes Quintus, regaining control of the discussion. "Five of us will hunt. Two will stay behind on guard duty."

"The question is, who will stay?" asks Remora.

"Any way of deciding?" asks Robin.

"I've got an idea," says Quintus. "The two tributes with the shortest kill list stay tonight. Then we rotate every night."

Now that does sound like a logical idea. A scientific way of deciding. Every time a tribute kills in the arena, a kill is put to their name in the Capitol. Many Capitol citizens bet on the size of a certain tribute's kill list. We could use kill totals to determine who stays behind tonight.

"That sounds like it would work," I say.

"There's one issue," says Maddie. "How do we work out the length of all of our kill lists?"

"We'll wait for the death recap, and work out who will be credited for each kill," explains Quintus. As if on cue, the sky lights up slightly as the Capitol anthem blares out over the arena.

We all leave our hammocks and gather about five metres from camp so that we can have a good look at the death recap. By the time we're all out and staring at the sky, the Capitol anthem is well underway. We can see the Capitol seal high in the sky, no doubt on a massive screen held aloft by an invisible hovercraft. At home, all the deaths would be shown in replays, but in the arena we only see pictures of each of the fallen tributes. It would give unfair advantages in the arena if we were able to see exactly how everyone died. We get to see simple head shots, the same ones used as when our training scores were broadcasted; only now our training scores are replaced by our district numbers.

The first face to appear is that of the boy from District 3.

"Whose kill was he?" asks Pearl. Evidently he wasn't hers.

"I killed him," responds Remora. "Two quick punches and a shove into the lava. Easy business," she grins.  
"You went for him unarmed?" asks Quintus.

"Yeah?" she laughs. "Not all of us need blades, Cato."

She's starting to make me uneasy. I don't like her confidence, her ability and her ruthlessness. Along with Pearl, I think the less that I have to do with Remora, the better.

The second face is the boy from District 5.

"I got him," says Quintus very matter-of-factly. "He was injured, and I finished him with my sword."

"I'd injured him," added Pearl eagerly. "I got him below the knee with a machete." Nobody seems too bothered. All attention is on the sky. Her attention-seeking strategies are doing nothing but irritating herself as they fail.

Third in the sky is the girl from District Six.

"Now, I managed to kill this one," brags Pearl. "No better way off killing than a machete to the chest," she laughs. Nobody else joins in. I can hear Robin sighing, and the look on his face says it all. He's getting frustrated by Pearl. Too much aggression and arrogance for his liking.

Next up is the male tribute from District 7. Blaine Maguire. For the first time, I feel some sorrow at the death of a tribute. I barely knew, but we did speak. Just once. On the night of the opening ceremony. We didn't speak much, but I said enough for Blaine to be seen as human. And no person with hopes, aspirations and emotions should come to the same end as him. Burned alive after falling into the lava whilst wrestling another man for a tiny, insignificant backpack. It just doesn't seem right.

"No idea what happened to him, Cato," says Maddie.

"Me neither," adds Remora.

"Then how'd he die?" Quintus asks.

"Him and District 9 took each other out," I say. "They were wrestling and fell into the lava."

"So that explains the lack of bodies at the cornucopia..." mutters Robin as though he's talking to himself, giving him funny looks from the others.

Fifth in the sky is the boy from District 8. None of us can explain his death. I guess his cannon was the one that went off late in the afternoon.

Sixth is the eighteen-year-old from Nine. His death is greeted by a round of cheers from Pearl and Remora. No prizes for guessing why. He was the only non-Career other than Sophia to score at least an eight. And now he's out of the game. Although I can still graphically recall his fiery death, I feel more relief than sorrow. Yes, it was horrendous, but he was a real threat to the Career Alliance.

Then the girl from District 10 is in the sky. I remember her death. She died right in front of me.

"I shot her," claims Robin. "After Robertson beat her to the floor."

I have to look away from the others at this point. I feel guilty. She was only young. Thirteen or fourteen, I guess. Still, she came at me with an axe. I did what I had to do. I really should stop feeling the guilt.

Number eight on the list of the fallen is the boy from District 11. I recognise the face only as one of the dead when I left the cornucopia during the bloodbath.

"I shot him too," adds Robin casually. I can tell Robin doesn't want to put too much thought into remembering the dead by how he said his last comment. Maybe he feels guilt like me. Certainly, neither of us brag like the girls I am starting to despise.

I know who the final face in the sky is before they appear. Now I know the identity of the girl I killed. The fifteen-year-old from Eleven. Although I never felt guilt earlier, I do now as her face appears. It's torturous to think that this girl, who has the same families backing her, the same friends at home, the same future plans as me, has had all of her future ended by me. And I gave her less than a second before I considered my actions. These Hunger Games are definitely changing me, and I feel ashamed of myself for it. Deep down, I'm no better than Pearl or Remora. We're all heartless killers. Well, now I've started down this road, I might as well continue until the Games end. Nobody ever wins the Games for compassion.

"Who killed this one?" asks Quintus.

"I did," I say as strongly as I can, trying to hide my guilt. I don't want to show any weakness.

"He got her in the back with a throwing knife," adds Robin. I forgot he was there when I killed her. "Straight in the back, a moving target over thirty yards away."

I look up at the group of Careers. It seems like I managed a respectable kill. Pearl and Remora seem impressed, and Quintus gives a slight nod in respect. Robin has been all in praise of me, I can tell by the way he explained my kill to the others. Maddie's reaction is the least expected. She's staring at me, and her eyes show something between respect and admiration. I guess the innocent, humble Maddie from the interviews is gone, replaced with a colder and more determined version of her. She seems almost mysterious so far today, certainly a good fighter after her bout with Sophia, and certainly brilliant with mind games after her confrontation with Pearl. She's a dark horse in the Games, I think. Given her previous lack of training, never thought she'd be strong enough for the Careers, but she is. And I have no idea what she is hiding.

By the time the anthem finishes and the Capitol seal has vanished from the sky, the sun has set completely.

"Well, it's clear who's guarding tonight," sneers Pearl cockily. Yet another insult aimed at Maddie. Evidently Pearl sees guard duty as below her. Actually, Maddie will probably be contributing more to the Career Alliance by guarding the camp than Pearl will by assisting in the hunt for the remaining tributes. Oh, the irony.

Quintus reviews our performances today. "Looking at our kills today, White got rid of the girl from Six, Thornby killed the lad from Three, and I took out the boy from Five. Hurst and Robertson eliminated District 11, and helped each other in killing the girl from Ten."

He turns to face Maddie and Sophia.

"That leaves you two guarding camp tonight," Quintus explains. I can see Pearl jeering at Maddie over Quintus' shoulder. Does she never give up? She won't get a reaction from Maddie. I don't know why she bothers.

"Remember to stay vigilant and stay armed. We won't be more than two or three hours. Probably."

Quintus turns to the rest of us. "Everyone, grab a weapon of choice," he begins. "Hurst, Robertson, grab night-vision goggles. We've got three pairs, I'll wear the third."

I now turn to Remora as we grab our gear from camp.

"Thornby!" I call, and the short girl in front of me turns to me.

"What do you want, Robertson?" she snaps in reply.

"If you need light, I found an electric torch at the cornucopia," I say. "It's under my hammock if you and White want to use it."

Remora pauses for a second before replying.

"Thank-you," she smiles, before searching for the torch under my hammock. I think that maybe I judged Remora wrongly. She might be openly hostile to enemies, but if you're kind, there may be a sweet side to her underneath. I don't know yet for certain, but Maddie has acted the same way towards me today. Cold and ruthless around everyone, but kind and open in a personal conversation. Maybe Remora's comment wasn't exactly personal, but Careers aren't known for thanking each other.

Heading over to my own hammock, I fit all my knives into my belt, so that I can throw several if necessary. It's a little uncomfortable with twenty knives in my belt, but I'll manage.

I regroup with the others at the edge of camp, and me and Quintus are the first to be ready to leave.

"Girls, eh?" Quintus jokes. "They take their time getting ready, whatever the situation."

I laugh along with him, despite the obvious sexism in his joke. I need to keep him on my good side. After Quintus' joke, it's ironic that Robin is the last to be ready, although he comes out of camp carrying a pile of leather coats.

"I found these under Cato's hammock," Robin says brightly as he dumps the pile of coats on the floor at our feet.  
"They've got a shiny inside lining. They'll be good for reflecting body heat," he explains. "They'll be good for cold nights."

Quintus picks up a coat, puts it on, and inspects the remaining coats.

"There's only six," he complains.

"So?" I reply. "Harper and Mellark don't need them. They have the fire," I explain.

"Fair point, Robertson," replies Remora, putting on a coat herself.

I reach down and grab a coat and put it on. It's a little big, but it's warm. It'll get me through the night. I find that it has pockets on the inside of the chest. I relocate my knives, giving me more mobility at my waist. I keep my largest one out to use as a dagger. In the woods, I'll need a weapon to hand constantly. I zip up my coat and put on my night-vision goggles, taking care to turn them on. I look around the party. Everyone looks very heavy-duty in the black leather coats and strong weapons. Quintus brandishes his sword. Robin has a quiver of arrows over his shoulder and a bow in his hand. I can't see the girls due to the torch that Pearl is holding. Whilst I've got these glasses on, the torch completely dazzles me.

"Ready to cut the field down to size?" says Quintus, as though he's daring us to start the night's hunt. Then he turns heel and walks quickly into the tree-line, and Robin runs quickly after him. Despite the odds, I'm slightly nervous. In case we get jumped, and I'm the unlucky one. But now isn't the right time for nerves. I take a deep breath and follow Quintus into the forest.

* * *

**A/N: Now that the story is well underway, I think this would be a good time to announce that I will be posting several one-shots to compliment this story, from various points of view. Hopefully this will give a more rounded view of the 66th Hunger Games. I think it would be important to mention that some of these oneshots will be written by richards25, who you can find by looking on my favourite authors list. I strongly recommed to check out his profile :) Finally, if you're continuing to find my story appealing, then please review. It helps to know what everyone thinks :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

**POV: Ludovic Robertson (15), Male Tribute, District 4**

**The Arena**

**9.00 pm, Sunday 15th July (Day 1 of the Games), year of the 66th Hunger Games**

* * *

If I'm feeling pedantic, I could argue that we're not in a forest. We are in woodland. A forest is a hunting ground. There need not be trees in a forest. But this woodland is in one sense a forest. We are the hunters, hunting down the remaining tributes from the outlying districts.

Quintus leads the way through the forest, followed by Pearl and Remora. Me and Robin bring up the rear of our hunting pack. As we walk deeper and deeper into the woods, I become more and more grateful for Robin finding these coats. The temperature still seems to be dropping. There's no frost on the ground, so the temperature is still above zero, though I can tell that it isn't by much. My feet are going numb in my leather shoes and the trousers aren't providing much warmth either. I'm not the only one feeling the cold either.

"Can we head back please, Cato?" pleads Pearl after about an hour. "It's getting really cold, we must be a mile from camp and I guarantee everyone has settled in for the night."

"She's right, Cato," adds Robin. "We're probably the only people moving round the arena at this time of night."

Quintus sighs and begrudgingly orders us back to camp. The walk back to camp as takes much longer than the first leg of our journey. Not only are we walking on tired legs, but the whole journey has been slowly downhill, so now we are constantly walking uphill. Frustratingly, we have to double back a couple of times to check our route, as we're struggling to remember the route we took, as we're all almost too tired to think.

I know we've gone wrong somewhere as when we're about half a mile from the top of the slope, we stumble across a lake. It must be forty yards in length, and it seems to be entirely enclosed. I reach the lake first along with Quintus, and I call back down the hill to the others.

"There's a lake here!" I shout. "We can probably rest for a while here!"

"You might want to keep your voice down a bit, Robertson," warns Quintus as the others arrive. I know we're a group of five, but we need to keep our whereabouts unknown as much as possible."

I nod in reply. I understand. Maybe I was a little careless. As Robin, Pearl and Remora arrives, Quintus addresses us.

"This lake could be very important to us," he begins. "As it is the only water source that we know of in the arena, we need to remember its position. The water at camp might run out in two or three days, and we'll have to travel here for more."

We all nod in agreement with Quintus, but Remora suddenly points out over Quintus' shoulder at the far side of the lake, shouting excitedly.

"Tribute!"

All our eyes turn as one to the far side of the lake, where I notice two glowing eyes standing out due to my night-vision goggles. I can see that the eyes belong to a young boy. I think he's from District 3. One of the real weaklings. Pearl trains her torch on him, and he turns to run from the lake.

Quintus sprints round the lake after him, sword in hand. Robin runs straight after him, and I bring up the rear with the girls.

Although the boy may be small, he's nimble. Not only did he have half a minute's head start over Quintus, but Quintus stumbles on roots and rocks that the boy from District 3 skips over with ease. Still, he's not chosen a very wise escape route. Knowingly or not, and I'd guess not, the boy is running straight towards the top of the slope and the cornucopia. He'll run straight into Maddie and Sophia. If Quintus doesn't catch him, of course.

Leaving the girls behind, I set off in pursuit of Robin and Quintus. I can see why Quintus has difficulty running. Most of the trees in this part of the wood have roots protruding out of the ground up to a foot high. I trip a couple of times myself in an attempt to catch up to him. The girls seem to realise any attempt to catch up is futile, and have slowed to a walk. Even if they come across another tribute now, I can't see any way in which Pearl or Remora would come to harm. Those two would be a match for anyone in the arena.

Looking ahead, I can see the boy is only a few strides from the clearing that holds the cornucopia, and Quintus is about twenty yards behind. I can tell he's getting tired, though. He isn't built for distance running. While he might be slim, he's too tall.

I'm about ten yards from the tree-line when I hear Quintus shouting.

"Don't move!" He sounds so out of breath. "Stay at camp!"

That was obviously directed at the girls. Maddie and Sophia. We don't need their help. They'll be more useful protecting supplies than hunting District 3. That's why we left them at camp earlier.

Quintus has now doubled over about ten yards in front of me, completely exhausted. Robin has caught him too. That boy seems as though he can run for ages. We're all shattered, and he's barely seemed to falter. There's only one way I can see that we'll get him. He's almost at the cornucopia now, forty yards from us.

Robin always seems to be on the same wavelength as me. As soon as I think it, he's pulled an arrow from the quiver over his shoulder. Another second and the arrow's in the boy's calf. The cornucopia is alive with screams once again.

"Nice shot, Hurst," is all we get from Quintus before he runs over to fallen tribute. Grabbing him by the neck, Quintus pins the boy to the side of the cornucopia. He's still screaming, but he's writhing in Quintus' grasp.

"We should end him, Cato," says Robin. "He's wasted enough of our time already."

I don't think this is the real reason why Robin's complaining. Judging by the amount of blood coming from the boy's leg, he will die. Either by blood loss or blood poisoning. Neither one would be quick nor pleasant. Robin wants a mercy killing.

"You know what they want, Hurst," responds Quintus. I can tell he knows what Robin is asking for. Maybe Quintus doesn't like the idea of it either, but he can tell that the audience will. And the more that the audience like us, the less the Gamemakers will have to interfere. I don't think any of us want a pack of feral muttations to be let loose in the arena.

"It's all for the show, isn't it?" continues Cato.

"If someone must do it," I say, looking over my shoulder at Pearl and Remora, who have almost reached us. "Then let someone do it who will enjoy it."

"Right then, ladies," says Quintus as the girls arrive. "Who's having this one?"

I can see the boy's eyes widen as the girls argue between each other over the kill. This is so wrong. The boy's half-dead already. We should just finish him.

Yet again, Robin seems to respond to my thoughts.

"Shouldn't we be moving on?" he says frustratedly. Nobody hears him but me. He looks across at me, and his face shows a mixture of anger, frustration and disgust. After a second attempt of talking to the others, his patience wears thin. The girls only stop their argument due to the cannon.

Quintus looks down at the body of the boy that he is still holding to the wall. Noticing the arrow protruding from the boy's chest, he relaxes his grip and the corpse crumples to the floor. He now turns to Robin.

"What was that for?" he asks angrily.

"He was half-dead already," Robin replies, almost moved to anger himself. I can tell by his wavering voice that anything now could set him off. "We shouldn't waste time, and at least this way he didn't bleed to death."

"Still, he was my kill!" shouts Pearl.

Everyone seems to be against Robin here. I need to show that I'm on his side.

"Why do you think he was your kill, White?" I ask with a superior tone, catching Pearl of guard. "Why not me? Or Remora? I can she'd have loved to claim another kill."

I can see that I've succeeded in diverting the anger from Robin when Remora's sadistic grin at my comment is picked up on by Pearl.

I can hear Quintus sighing. I can tell Pearl irritates him just as much as she irritates me and Robin. I don't know why we don't kill her now, just for peace of mind. I guess she might be useful later in the Games. Who knows? I certainly don't. There's no second chances in the Hunger Games. We wouldn't want to kill her too soon.

"Right then," says Quintus loudly, trying to catch the attention of the girls to stop their bickering. "It's getting late, and I'm starting to get tired. Let's head back to camp and get some rest. We've done enough for tonight."

Nobody complains. Even on the short walk back to our hammocks, I can hear the girls resume their bickering. I've no idea what they're arguing about now. Still, it's not like I care.

When we arrive at camp, Maddie and Sophia are relieved of guard duty. Quintus and Pearl volunteer to take up the guard for the remainder of the night. I grab a sleeping bag from underneath my hammock, and place it in my hammock before climbing in. Along with my coat, the sleeping bag actually makes me feel warm as I settle in for the night. Although the fire is down to its dying embers, I find I don't even need it for warmth. Even if I did, we've used up all our firewood. I'd have to have coped until morning, anyway.

Thinking about it, it's probably already morning. The sun may not rise for another few hours, but I'm almost certain it's past midnight. Sunday is over. Now it is Monday. Most likely the last Monday I'll ever see. Not a pleasant thought. Still, I've survived the cornucopia. Unscathed. And with the death of the boy from District 3, there are only fourteen of us left. The odds are swinging in my favour. Another few days, and I might be in the top eight. Who knows? I can't even begin to think about it now. I'm so tired. My only wish at the moment is for sleep.

I wake to a bright sky. I'm almost dazzled at first, and I take my time to wake up properly before dropping down from my hammock. I can tell I've slept until late in the morning. The sun is high in the sky, and everyone is up, with the exception of Pearl and Quintus. Robin is cooking, and he offers me food. I eat two slices of bread, some dried meat and an apple. For the first time since I entered the arena, I've had a decent-sized meal. Despite my high levels of activity, I haven't felt hungry in the arena until this morning. I blame the stress.

After lunch, we all lounge around, passing our time by talking or coming up with silly games. It's nice to seemingly escape the Games for a while, and have some fun. Proper fun, not the sadistic fun that Remora enjoys during a kill. I've never seen her kill personally, but Maddie did during the bloodbath, and I trust her word. We spend most of the afternoon relaxing, due to our decision to hunt as a group at dusk and the first few hours of night, due to the searing heat of the day. It seems worse than yesterday, probably because I've been exposed to it for longer. Either way, the less exercise I do in this heat, the better.

We're all shocked back to the reality of the Hunger Games in an instant as the cannon fires. Quintus and Pearl are suddenly alert, simultaneously woken from their dreams. The rest of us leave camp and spread out around the clearing, looking for any signs of the dead. After about ten minutes, I see the hovercraft fly over the desert to recover the body. As it's lifted upwards, I can't make out who it is. There's still a few hours until sunset, so I won't find out any time soon. As I return, Quintus comes straight out to meet me.

"What did I miss, Robertson?" he asks, appearing slightly nervous.

"Nothing much," I reply. "Just the one cannon. The tribute who just got picked up in the desert."

"Any idea who it was?"

"Not a clue. They were too far away for me to be able to tell."

"Did anything happen this morning?" he asks.

"I don't know," I respond truthfully. "I was the last to wake, aside from White and yourself."

"Very well, Robertson," he continues, quite clearly dismissing me. "I'll ask Harper when she returns from the cornucopia."

With that comment, Quintus returns to his hammock, leaving me unsure of what to do. I'm getting a bit tired of Quintus. I'm fed up of him assuming power. He's too sure of himself. Too arrogant. Too prejudiced. He needs taking down a notch. As does Pearl.

He wasn't like this back in the Capitol. I've heard the expression before, but I never really understood how relevant it is. the arena changes people. I can see it within the alliance. Quintus doesn't joke any more, he only searches for power and knowledge. Maddie has turned so cold and ruthless. She's fine when we're alone, but most of the time, she's somewhat unnerving. Although I barely know Sophia, I know that she's definitely changed. The one thing I clearly remember about her was how much of an extrovert she was at the opening ceremonies and during the interviews. Now she's timid; a recluse within our group. Maybe she's just intimidated by the Careers. Or maybe the roots of the problem lie deeper.

Pearl seems unchanged, just as abrasive as ever. As does Remora.

Robin seems similar to his behaviour at the Training Centre. All the jokes and witty comments are there, and he's still playful. My only worry is that there is some sort of confrontation between Robin and Quintus. I remember that Robin was angry with Quintus last night at the cornucopia. I hope Quintus doesn't give him any more reasons to be angry. Sooner or later, I may have to choose who to pledge my allegiances to. I'll have to think about that carefully, when the time comes. The consequences may be severe.

As afternoon turns to evening, time seems to slow. I'm getting bored here. Everyone is milling about with nothing to do. I'm lying on a hammock, staring around camp. Quintus is asleep opposite me. Maddie is with Robin and Sophia near the cornucopia. I hear them laugh occasionally.

Pearl and Remora seem restless, and they endlessly patrol the edge of our large clearing. Judging by their nature, I'd say they're both eagerly anticipating nightfall. Night means the hunt. For Pearl, this is yet another chance to earn our respect. I doubt she will, even if she does kill again tonight. For Remora, this is just another chance to enjoy another kill. If Robin doesn't deny Remora of her pleasure.

Their constant traipsing around the clearing is starting to hear me. Every time they get close to camp, I can hear them sniping at each other. Won't they ever shut up? I'm amazed their fighting is still verbal.

Eventually, the sky fades to pink as the night draws in. Quintus rises from his slumber and calls all of us to meet at camp.

"Right," he starts as everyone arrives. "It's time to hunt again." I can Remora and Pearl grinning behind Quintus. Evidently this is what they've been waiting for.

"Tonight, we're going to have a change of personnel hunting," Quintus continues, giving the girls from One and Two nervous looks on their faces.

Quintus then turns to face me.

"Robertson," he begins. "You're staying back tonight, along with Mellark." I look across at Sophia, and she doesn't seem surprised that she's left out of the hunt, and neither am I. Quintus seems to want as little to do with her as possible.

"Harper will be replacing Robertson on the hunt," continues Quintus after a moment's pause. "We'll be leaving in five minutes. Everyone, grab your kit."

The crowd disperses as we all return to our hammocks to gather necessary supples for the night.

Remembering that Maddie is taking my place in the hunt, I have something that I need to give her.

"Harper!" I call, and she looks up at me from her pile of supplies. I walk over to her, and fetch my night-vision glasses from my trouser pocket.

"Here," I say, offering the glasses to her.

She takes the pair of glasses, and tries them on. I can't help noticing that she looks very different with glasses on. Then again, don't all of us?

"Thank-you," she smiles, before returning to organising her supplies, leaving me feeling happy that I've helped her. I climb back into my hammock, where I think I'll stay until the other Careers have left.

Maddie is the last to be ready. The other four have already assembled at the edge of our camp.

"Shouldn't we make a start?" asks Robin tiredly. He sounds just as impatient as the others.

"Aren't we waiting for the death recap?" asks Maddie.

"There's no need," replies Quintus. "We'll be able to see it through the trees, when we're on the move. Lets be off."

The other four tributes start to move, but Quintus remains at camp until the other Careers reach the tree-line.

"Robertson!" he calls, loud enough for me to hear, but quiet enough for nobody else to.

Reluctantly, I climb down from my hammock and approach him.

"While we're gone," he says in hushed tones. "Keep an eye on Mellark."

I don't really understand why he needs me to keep an eye on her. I'll be guarding the supplies with her, not guarding the supplies from her. And Sophia is no threat to Quintus. She barely interacts with him. Maybe he thinks she's planning something. Whatever his motive is, I think his request is ridiculous. But I must honour it, just to stay in his favour.

"Will you do that for me?" Quintus asks, noticing my pause.

"Sure," I reply, trying to appear friendly. "Take care, Cato."

"I'll try," he says as he turns his back on me, leaving me alone with Sophia at camp. Night is falling. I just hope we all make it through to sunrise.

* * *

**A/N: Just another reminder to check out richards25's channel, they've been putting in a helping hand with the latst few chapters, and has started to write some oneshots to pad out this story :) If you've enjoyed this, be sure to check our their channel :) Thanks again for continuing to read my first story :)**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

**POV: Ludovic Robertson (15), Male Tribute, District 4**

**The Arena**

**8.30 pm, Monday 16th July (Day 2 of the Games), year of the 66th Hunger Games**

* * *

With Quintus gone I return to Sophia, who is lying in a hammock opposite to mine. I pull up into my own hammock, and lie on my side, staring across at her.

"Hi Sophia," I say, trying to get into a conversation with her. I want to get to know her better.

"Oh, hey," she replies, looking a bit surprised. I guess she was daydreaming. "It's Ludo, isn't it?" she asks.

"Technically it's Ludovic, but yeah, I prefer Ludo," I say, taking care to be friendly.

"Everyone just calls you Robertson though, I doubt either name ends up being used very much."

She's right. Ever since we've got in this Alliance, barely anyone has called my by my first name, never mind my nickname. My nickname, Ludo, is one of the few things that I have to remind me of District 4, the place where it was created by Maddie, eight years ago.

"Only when District 2 or Pearl are around," I reply. "Maddie and Robin call me Ludo. I prefer it to my surname."

"I don't see why Quintus wants this stupid rule," complains Sophia.

"I don't get it either," I say, trying to work out his reasoning for myself. I can't fathom it.

"It's so pointless. Just like half of his decisions," Sophia complains, getting aggravated. "I don't understand why he let me join the Careers if he is just going to neglect me and make me do all the guard duty?"

"I'll be honest with you," I say, trying to think of things from Quintus' point of view. "I don't think he ever wanted you to join. He just didn't want to argue with Robin. Plus, you could just be left on guard duty, allowing the rest of the Careers to hunt."

"So he's using me?" asks Sophia, who is getting more and more aggravated.

"I don't know for certain," I reply cautiously, trying to calm Sophia. "But I'd guess that he is."

"I guess I'll be stuck on guard duty forever, then..." sighs Sophia, a little calmer than before. "Considering I doubt I'll ever get a chance to, what's hunting like?"

"Boring and tiring," I say, surprising Sophia a little. "You have to walk for hours, without finding anyone. And it gets worse when you actually do find someone."

"Why's that?" asks Sophia, who now looks concerned.

"Because once you've found someone, you have to kill them," I say grimly. "I'm sure you've seen how sadistic some Careers can be from previous games. It's just horrible, having to stand by while strong, armed teenagers debate how to best take a life."

"Was that what happened last night?" Sophia asks. "I remember Quintus was complaining about Robin when he got back.

"Yeah," I say, reminiscing on last night's events. "Robin had injured the boy; he was bound to die, his wounds were bleeding too much. But Quintus wanted to leave him to Remora, and let her make an example of him."

"But that's horrible!" cries out Sophia, clearly shocked that her allies could be so brutal.

"I agree," I continue. "And Robin obviously did, too. He shot the boy. It was obviously a mercy killing. The boy was in so much pain. He wouldn't stop screaming..." My voice trails off. I feel weak, sick even, just thinking about this. It's horrible, what some of us are wiling to do, and what Quintus (who has control over all of us) will allow to happen.

"Robin told me and Maddie some of that this afternoon," relies Sophia. "He doesn't get on with Quintus now."  
Well, that's news to me. I haven't heard that from him yet. Then again, there hasn't been an opportunity for him to tell me since last night.

"He says the Alliance will break soon," says Sophia. "When it does, he's agree to stay with me and Maddie."

"I'll have to speak to him about that," I respond, slightly concerned by Sophia's words. "I've made plans of a similar nature with Maddie already."

"Oh, she's told Robin about that already," explains Sophia. "He said that you're welcome to join us, if you wish to."  
"Very well," I say in reply. "I'll talk to him about it when he returns later."

At this point, our conversation is halted as the Capitol anthem is broadcasted across the arena. It is the start of tonight's death recap.

We drop down off of our hammocks and run outside of the camp to get a better view of the broadcast. We're out in time to watch the Capitol seal be replaced by the face of the first of today's dead.

I already knew who the first face in the sky would be. As both tributes from Districts 1 and 2 are still in the Career Alliance, the first face belongs to the boy we killed last night. The thirteen-year-old from District 3. He never really stood a chance in the games. It's a bit of a pity that Three don't have their own Careers, to volunteer for weaklings and no-hopers.

I never really knew the boy from District 3. I don't feel any guilt at his death, only concern at Quintus' lack of mercy and worry at Robin's reaction. I doubt the Alliance will last until tomorrow's death recap.

The second and final face in the sky will be the tribute that died in the desert this afternoon. The tribute whose death we can't explain. Were they killed by another tribute? Did they die of thirst and starvation? Did they fall prey to a Gamemaker trap? The possibilities are endless.

As the face of today's second victim is shone down at us, I can hear Sophia gasp next to me as the face of her district partner is displayed in the sky. The boy from District 12 is dead.

I can tell Sophia's been shaken up by this. Maybe there's something I can do to help her. I don't want to be left with Sophia in shock for the whole night. Maybe just talking about it with her will help.

"Are you okay, Sophia?" I ask, hoping not to appear too intrusive. She hasn't said a word since the boy's face came up. I give her a few seconds then ask again.

"Is something wrong?" I venture again.

This time, she turns to look at me.

"I knew him," she mumbles.

"The boy from your district?" I ask again, and she nods in agreement.

"I knew that, because he was only twelve, he was always going to die," she says, her voice full of sorrow. "But that doesn't make it any easier to accept that he's gone."

"Who was he?" I ask.

"Toni," replies Sophia. "Toni Fletcher. He was my nephew's best friend."

Now I can understand her more. I know what it's like to have your best friend become a tribute. I went through that for Finnick last year. Sophia will now know that somewhere in District 12, her nephew will no doubt be grieving for his lost friend. I have to admit, it must be very, very tough for Toni's friend, Sophia's nephew.

"He never really stood a chance," Sophia continues, almost crying herself. "He was always kind, and never resorted to violence. This wasn't the place for Toni."  
"The only people who actually belong in the arena are Pearl and Remora." I reply. "The rest of us have to change into something that we're not, in order to survive." As I say the words, I realise how true they are. If Maddie was still acting in the same innocent way that she did in the interviews, then she's be dead by now. It's not a pleasant thought, but it's true.

Evidently, Sophia's mind is elsewhere. Even though the Capitol seal has long since vanished from the sky, her face still looks up to the stars. It's a clear night, and the view is quite breathtaking. Still, I doubt Sophia's mind is on the stars.

"The worst thing," she continues after a long pause. "Is how similar Toni was to my nephews."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"They're just so peaceful." Sophia replies solemnly. "They'd never win the games, if they ever get reaped. Well, maybe my brother's eldest might stand a chance. He's quite strong, and well-fed. It was his first Reaping this year, and his best friend was chosen. Poor Ryan."

"Ryan?" I ask.

"My nephew," replies Sophia. "I'm the youngest of four, and my oldest brother's twenty-nine. He's the only one of us that's foolish enough to have kids."

"What do you mean by that?" I ask, feeling a bit confused.

"It might be different in District 4, but where I come from, nobody stands a chance in the Hunger Games. Nobody."

"But you're-"

"Oh, come on, Ludo!" she replies, almost shouting. "Do you really think I stand a chance? At some point, the Careers will tire of me. And even if we split, and I leave with you, Robin and Maddie, at some point, we'll have to turn on each other. We won't get far without Robin hunting us down. None of us will."

I can see her point. District 12 will never do well in the Hunger Games. On the rare occasion that they actually get a strong tribute, they never earn enough allies or sponsors to stay alive for long. It's quite a shame, how instantly discarded they can be by the audience due to their reputation.

"I feel sorry for my brother," Sophia continues. "With three children, he's at as much risk as anyone due to the Reapings. If Ryan makes it to seventeen or eighteen before he's reaped, he might have the same chance of winning as me. Marginally above zero."

I don't know why, but I feel pity for Sophia. She sounds like she's given up already. I may have told my parents the same things as what she's now telling me, but I didn't mean it. She genuinely thinks that she will soon be dead. Poor girl.

After a pause, she continues her story. "Except for Ryan, the others would never stand a chance. I know that Ryan would kill, if he had to. The others are too innocent. Too concerning. They would never take a life. They think things through to much to ever stand a decent chance in the games. Callum and Peeta will never win the Hunger Games."

"Really?" I ask, shocked by her lack of confidence.

Sophia nods in reply, and I see that she has tears in her eyes. I guess it pains her to talk about family. I try to think of a way to change the topic to stop Sophia from getting emotional, but I don't have to bother. Somebody else causes a distraction for me.

We turn, twenty metres from camp, to find a tall girl scrambling away from the fire with a large backpack in one hand. It takes me less than a second to place the backpack. It belongs to Quintus. We've neglected our guard duty. If we don't get it back, Quintus won't be pleased. If Robin's got him in a bad mood again, he might even kill us. Suddenly all my thoughts are of getting our supplies back.

We reach the camp just as the girl with the backpack enters the woods. We can't afford to waste much time, but we will need light in the woods. I stop briefly to grab an electric torch that I see under Pearl's hammock. She's using mine whilst hunting, so I assume she won't mind me using hers.

We leave quickly and we've only lost twenty yards on the girl when we enter the woods. I can see her weaving between the trees, about forty yards away. Forty yards. She's still within range.

I grab a knife from the inside of my coat and position my arm for a throw. It's difficult to aim whilst running, though. I have to pay a lot of attention to the ground so that I don't fall over, so it's understandable (although still frustrating) that my first two knives are nowhere near my target. Sophia is about five yards behind me, clutching the combat axe that I gave her on the first day. She has nothing to throw; she just keeps running.

When we're within twenty yards of the girl, I find that I recognise her. It's Isabella, the girl from District 7. I wonder if she knows what happened to her brother. No, I can't think like that anymore. Thinking is caring. Caring means less killing. Less killing means less chance of survival. Isabella must die tonight.

After what I can guess to be about three minutes and over five wasted knives, Isabella reaches a clearing in the woods. Coincidentally, it's the same clearing that me and Maddie came to on the day of the bloodbath.

At this point I notice her glance back towards us to judge our distance and I notice panic spread across her face as she trips and falls in the long grass.

We're upon her in seconds. I reach Isabella first, and I dive on her, making sure she can't stand back up. Put pressure on her neck and shoulders. She can't counter that. I find myself sitting over her upper chest and collarbone, pinning her to the ground. She has no way of countering; my legs have trapped her arms, preventing retaliation. I could end her right now. A knife in the throat and it's all over.

Isabella surprises me. Despite her situation, she remains resilient. As though she doesn't want to go down without a fight. She's nothing like the boy from Three, who cried to the end. Her eyes continue to stare me down, even in defeat.

"So," she spits at me, her voice wavering. "You're going to kill me."

Oh, no. I could do this so easily. If she doesn't start talking. If my conscience kicks in, Isabella has won. I don't reply to her as I pull a knife from the inside of my coat and press it to her throat, taking care not to apply too much pressure. Just enough pressure to draw blood and no more.

"I know I'm dead," she continues. "But I have one thing to ask of you, before you kill me."

She's working her way into me. I can't let her play with my emotions. I look up at her, to see that determination in her eyes again, to prove to me that I should finish her. But I can't. Her resiliency is gone; all that remains is desperation.

"Please," she continues. "I saw his face in the sky."

I already know what she wants. She's getting to me too much. I'm starting to doubt whether I can kill her.  
"Tell me," she pleads. "What happened to my brother?"

No. I can't do this. She's done nothing to me. Well, virtually nothing. She's still a thief. But I have to tell her. I can't refuse to answer. If Bella had been killed in the arena, I wouldn't stop until I get an answer. Isabella has defeated me. I take a deep breath to calm myself before lowering my knife from her throat. I take several more moments to compose myself before answering her.

"I watched him die," I begin quietly, unsure of what to say next. "At the cornucopia. He was fighting with District 9. They were near the edge, and, and..."

I'm almost crying. I hate having to relive this. But I will. It was her dying wish. Just to show that I'm better than the others. I won't lower myself to Remora's level.

I'm stalling.

"He fell?" she asks, barely above a whisper.

I can't even force a reply; I merely nod before lowering my head. I can't bear to look into her eyes again. Not now.  
"He liked you, you know," Isabella continues after a long pause. This makes me look up at her and I can see the tears streaming down her face. No doubt this wasn't the first time she's cried for her lost brother.

"We always planned to help each other in the arena. As much as possible, at least until the end." I know what she means by this. The same thing might happen to me and Maddie. But I can't think about that now. Not with a grieving girl pinned underneath me. Now Isabella continues her story.

"He wanted you for an ally," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "But he had no confidence in himself. He never thought a Career would notice him."

Blaine was right. Aside from our brief conversation at the opening ceremony, I was oblivious to him. He wanted me for an ally, and I ignored him. If we had been allies, I would have run to him at the cornucopia. If we had been allies, he might still be alive. But we weren't, and he's not. And it all seems to be my fault.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. And I genuinely mean it. I could have saved him, but chose not to. I would be disgracing his memory if I killed his sister now, an unarmed innocent.

"So, are you still going to kill me?" cries Isabella. I doubt she'll be calming down at any time soon.

"No," I say as strongly as I can. I put my knife back inside my coat.

"You can't, Ludo!" shouts Sophia. I'd completely forgotten she was there. "Imagine what Quintus will do if he finds out we let somebody go!"

She's right. The consequences will be severe.

"Surely it would be worse if we say we got a kill?" I reply. "That would mean admitting to leaving camp unguarded. What Quintus doesn't know can't harm him."

Oops. I said that a bit too loud. I hope there was nobody else nearby. If there was, I can guess where they will be heading. We need to get back to camp. Quickly.

Still, it seems as though I've won Sophia over. I can tell even before she replies to me.

"Fine. Let her go."

I turn my attention back to Isabella. Her tears are starting to dry up.

"We're not going to kill you," I begin. "But we do need all of our supplies back."

Isabella nods in agreement, and I get up before offering a hand to her. Once I've pulled her up, she hands over the large green rucksack that she had taken from Quintus' hammock. I know that she won't have had time to take anything out during the chase, so I don't bother to check the contents. I didn't know what was in it at first, anyway. But it feels heavy, so I guess it's almost full. That's good enough for me.

I turn to the two girls, my ally and my enemy.

"This never happened," I say. "We won't speak about this again." Both girls nod. I now turn to Isabella.

"Don't think there will be any second chances, District 7," I say, as threateningly as I can manage. "If we find you again, we will kill you. And I doubt my allies will show you any mercy," I say, thinking of Pearl and Remora.

Isabella seems surprised by my actions, but not dazed enough to understand that my words indicate that she needs to leave.

"Thank-you," is all Isabella manages to reply before she turns on her heels and runs from the clearing, taking her further from the cornucopia. A wise move. I doubt she wants another confrontation with the Careers.  
As I see her leave, I feel my guilt over Blaine's death leave me. I have paid back my debts to the Maguires. I let Blaine's sister live.

* * *

**A/N: Finally, I'm over half way there, and it's just starting to get interesting :) I hope you've enjoyed the story so far, and please feel free to review if you have :) Constructive criticism is welcome :)**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

**POV: Ludovic Robertson (15), Male Tribute, District 4**

**The Arena**

**10.30 pm, Monday 16th July (Day 2 of the Games), year of the 66th Hunger Games**

* * *

We wait until Isabella disappears before we turn to start the walk uphill to camp. On the way, I manage to find three of the five knives that threw at Isabella during the chase. I'm glad that I've only lost two.

We arrive back to camp just as a cannon sounds. I guess the Career pack just claimed its first victim of the night. I wonder who it was and how they died. I really hope it wasn't Isabella, especially as it's only been about twenty minutes since me and Sophia let her go.

Once we're back at camp, we check over all the supplies and return Quintus' backpack to its position underneath his hammock. It appears as though nothing is missing. Maybe I needn't have worried so much about the possibility of losing supplies. I guess even the possibility of a Career being here was enough to deter the other tributes. Either that or nobody overheard me in the clearing.

It's another half hour before the Career pack return to camp, with one kill for their night's work. Robin leads the way to camp, storming away from Quintus. I can tell from Quintus' voice that they've been arguing.

My body has almost overcome to fatigue after chasing Isabella and staying up until the early hours of the warning, so I don't even wait for Quintus' order before climbing into my hammock and turning in for the night, safe in the knowledge that my allies will be here to protect me.

I rise late again, yet again cursing the Gamemakers for their choice of weather. The searing sun might have been replaced by an overcast sky, but the humidity is even worse than the heat was.

Once I've pulled myself down from my hammock, I strip down to just my vest and trousers before inspecting the condition of our Alliance.

It's late morning, and Robin is the only other person who is awake. He sits on a log that has served as a bench, near the burning fire in the centre of camp. I believe he's eating something. Groosling, maybe. I'm not sure though. I walk over to him and sit down on the log by the fire.

"Want some groosling?" he asks when I join him.

"No, thanks," I say, pushing away the cooked legs that he offers me. I don't really feel hungry. And if I did, I'd prefer fruit, rather than fatty meat. Having grown up on a diet of almost totally fish, anything with high amounts of fat seems horrid and inedible to me. Either that or it'll take time to get used to it. Time that I don't have.

My mind drifts back to last night. I don't even know who the Careers killed. Or why Robin and Quintus were arguing.

"What happened last night, Robin?" I ask.

He glances up at me, before staring round the camp. To see if anyone is awake. I don't think anybody is, and if they are, they're doing a very good job of hiding it. Still, Robin doesn't want to take the risk. Putting down his groosling leg, he turns back to talk to me.

"Do you think we should patrol the perimeter whilst the others sleep?" he asks me.

I know what this means. He wants to talk to me without the others hearing. It's a clever excuse if anyone overheard. The perimeter does need watching. We don't want any tributes getting into the clearing and returning to the now-empty cornucopia without us noticing.

I get up and grab three knives from the inside of my coat before I leave, taking care to hide my coat within my supplies. Robin, who has also stripped down to just a vest, only carries his bow and one quiver of arrows.

We start to slowly patrol the clearing, and for the first two laps, we stay concentrated on our self-assigned task. Well, mostly. Some of my concentration is on the humidity, which is making me feel so uncomfortable. It's not exactly cold, but I'm grateful for the drop in temperature today. If it was over forty degrees again today, I'd be dying. Quite literally. Sunstroke kills.

As we reach the edge of the desert on our third patrol lap, Robin stops.

"So, you want to know what happened last night?" he asks quietly, to which I only nod in reply.

"We were in the woods, I guess about a mile and a half away," Robin begins. "And we came across another tribute."

"Who was it?" I ask.

"The girl from Nine."

I can tell from the tone of voice that Robin uses to answer me that the girl is no longer alive, and that it was her cannon that I heard.

"What happened to her?" I ask.

"We found her about an hour into the hunt," he replies. "She ran, and she was pretty quick. But she ended up at the foot of a cliff, with nowhere else to run. The cliff was too steep to climb. So we had her cornered."

"So what was the problem?" I ask. I have suspicions, so Robin's answer doesn't surprise me.

"Quintus wanted Remora or Pearl to kill her," he continues, visibly becoming more and more agitated. "But I don't want anyone to be tortured to death. I can't just stand by and watch. But Quintus wanted it, to give the Capitol more entertainment."

"So how did she die?" I ask, eager to find out exactly why there's a rift growing between Robin and Quintus.

"I shot her," he says grimly. "As much as it might have been better for us if we provide the Capitol with more entertainment, I couldn't just stand there. And Quintus didn't like it, and he got angry. Very angry. He'd calmed a lot by the time we returned to camp."

"So what's happening between you two?" I ask, slightly worried about the state of the Career Alliance.

"I won't be able to stand another night with him," Robin says bluntly. "If I have to shoot anyone else to save them from Remora, he'll probably kill me. Seriously."

"So what're you going to do?" I ask, wondering whether Robin is planning on breaking the Alliance. If he is, I plan on staying with him.

"I don't know if Sophia told you," he begins. "But me, her and Maddie are going to leave the Alliance if anything sparks up again. You can come with us, if you want."

"Sure," I say. "I'd rather not have to spend any more time with her, anyway," gesturing at Pearl.

"Which one, Pearl or Remora?"

"Both, I guess," and we both laugh.

"Seriously, we could leave at any point." he says, seeming more serious in an instant. "Get your things ready to grab in a hurry, and be prepared at all times."

I nod a reply and look back over Robin's shoulder at camp, to see that Pearl has woken.

"We should head back to camp," I say. "We might have company soon."

Robin turns and sighs when he sees Pearl awake.

"Very well," he says in reply, and we walk slowly back to camp.

When we arrive at camp, Pearl is complaining, but I barely pay her any attention. She's always complaining about something, so it barely seems to matter anymore.

Frustratingly, she's loud enough to wake everyone else up, causing a full-scale row between Quintus, Maddie and Pearl. Robin sighs and walks off, leaving me alone with Remora, trying to calm the others. Sophia has already given up, and has returned to her hammock. Remora and I quickly realise that our attempts are futile, and we leave the others to themselves. Eventually the argument dissipates as Pearl stalks off into the woods again, leaving a worn-out and irritated pair of tributes behind her.

The morning seems to pass slowly after that, but I take care to gather my supplies together without making it look suspicious to the others. I don't think I've forgotten anything. I've got my coat, my hooded jumper, my knives, a sleeping bag, a water bottle, a lighter, plenty of food and an electric torch in my backpack, ready to go. Even if I split with everyone, I reckon I'll be well enough supplied to survive on my own.

Pearl returns just after midday, and it turns out that she's been hunting. She's got two more grooslings for us. They won't last long, but they'll keep us all hunger-free for this afternoon, at least. Maybe she is still useful for us. If we can learn to tolerate her.

The afternoon passes slowly, especially as rain starts falling shortly after our communal feast of groosling and apples. We stay within the confines of our camp, making small talk between us. I notice how on-edge Maddie and Robin are. Evidently they're desperate to leave the other Careers behind us. They're just raring to go.

I don't know why, but I'm slightly unnerved by the idea of breaking the Career Alliance. It might not be the most stable group of individuals ever, but at least I know where I belong. I know the score. Nothing is being kept from me. It's been a constant in the ever-changing world of the arena. And now soon it will split in half. I remember this is my third day in the arena. The Alliance usually survives until the third day. After that, things start to break down. I think tonight is the night. If I make it to nightfall, I don't think I'll be sleeping in this camp.

Another concern I have is leaving Quintus. And it's not just for the obvious reasons. Ok, it is a bit. He's incredibly strong and talented, and I'd much rather have him as an ally than as an enemy. But also, I just don't want to have to kill him. As much as he might have changed into a ruthless killer in the arena, I still remember the amiable boy in the Training Centre. If I ever get out of this arena, I must try hard to remember Quintus as the kind boy full of laughter that I first met, and not the monster that the Games have turned him into.

As day turns to night, I'm amazed that today has brought no further arguments. The death recap is brief; only the girl from District 9. Only me and Sophia actually pay attention to the recap. The others all watched her die.

As the Capitol seal vanishes from the sky, Quintus rises and rouses us all from our hammocks, where we have been lounging around for the past few hours. The rain has now stopped, leaving a starry sky behind. No doubt the temperature will plummet again tonight. The fire is still burning fiercely late into the evening today, so there won't be an issue at camp, but it might be cold in the woods, even with a coat.

"Tonight," begins Quintus, clearly addressing us. "District 4 will guard camp."

"What?" says Pearl, who is clearly just as shocked as I am. Quintus is allowing Sophia to hunt. I can guess at why. Aside from her training score, Quintus has very little information on Sophia, as he's never seen her do much. She's decent in an unarmed fight, narrowly losing to Maddie. But other than that, he must know nothing about her. I'd guess he'll be trying to evaluate her use in comparison to Pearl. No doubt he plans for both to die soon enough, but maybe Sophia will be more beneficial to him than Pearl. She'll certainly be less annoying.

Quintus continues as though he's indifferent to Pearl's complaints. He's probably just learnt to block them out.

"In order for Mellark to keep warm in the woods, Harper should give Mellark her coat, and Robertson should provide her with a torch," orders Quintus.

I return to my hammock and retrieve the torch from my now-full backpack, taking care to make sure that the other Careers can't see how full my backpack is. They might suspect something if they find my backpack crammed full of choice supplies.

I pass Sophia my torch once she's put on Maddie's coat. Maddie runs over to the fire to conserve warmth, whilst I stand at the edge of camp, watching tonight's pack of hunters disappear into the woods.

I return to the fire in the centre of camp and I sit down next Maddie. She turns to me, wanting to start a conversation.

"Hey, Ludo," she begins amiably.

"Oh, hi Maddie," I reply.

"How's the arena for you?" she asks.

"Not bad," I reply. "It's got nothing on District 4, though."

"I think about it a lot," she replies solemnly.

"Think about what?" I ask, slightly confused.

"Home," she replies. "District 4. The small place that we never really thought was much, but is really one of the greatest places in the world."

I couldn't agree with Maddie more. As much as we might have resented our confinement and hated our lifestyle within District 4, now that we have left it behind I can't help but miss it.

"I agree. I felt like I belong there." I say in reply to Maddie.

"I just want to go home," says Maddie, sounding much younger than she really is. I can remember her telling me the same words many years ago as a young child, forcing herself out into the bay on a cold, windy day in November, just to please me and Finnick.

"Well, maybe you can go home," I respond, unsure of how to answer her. "I want to go home too."

Whilst the arena might not have been as strenuous or scary as I expected so far, I guess it will only get worse. Regardless, District 4 is still a massive improvement on my current situation. Unfortunately, for me to go home, Maddie must die. It's District 4 or Maddie. Most probably, I'll end up with neither; just a wooden box and a place six feet under. There are only twelve of us left. The time for me to make my decision is nearly upon us. I'm lucky that I've had three days with her in the arena without having to make that choice. But sometimes luck won't be on my side, and I fear that the time may be near.

"Even if I get home," continues Maddie. "It'll never be the same again."

"Surely it'll be better?" I say, convinced that she must prefer a life as a rich woman over a life helping to support a family on the verge of poverty.

"You would think so, Ludo," she replies solemnly. "But however tough life may be, I know where I belong. I know what I have to do. What my family needs from me."

"I understand," I say, almost without thinking. Not because I'm in the same situation at home- my family are reasonably rich- but because I can relate her life in Four to my current issue with the Career Alliance. It might not be much, but without it, I won't know what to do.

"I feel similarly about leaving the Careers," Maddie continues.

"So do I," I reply.

"At least I feel like I've got a place in this Alliance. I've no idea how the new Alliance with Robin and Sophia will work."

I agree with her. With the Careers, we all know where we stand. Quintus makes the rules. No exceptions. His word is final. In our new Alliance, I have no idea who will assume power. I'd guess Robin, but maybe I can? I doubt Sophia or Maddie will take control. I guess I'll have to wait until we're away from the others before I find out.  
"I guess we'll have to wait and see," I reply, at which Maddie sighs.

"But even that Alliance can't last forever, Ludo," Maddie says sombrely. "At some point, we'll have to make another decision."

I've been trying not to think about this. I know that any Alliance will have to be broken at some point. Even if I stay with Maddie after splitting with Robin and Sophia, eventually I'll have to go solo.

My lack of answer worries Maddie.

"What if it's just us four left?" asks Maddie worriedly.

"I don't know," I say quietly, which only seems to worry Maddie even more.

"What if it's just us two, Ludo?" she says hurriedly. She's getting into a panic. "What then?"

There. It's been said. The one question that I was afraid Maddie would ask. Now I will have to explain that I won't be able to kill her. I have no idea what to say.

"What then, Ludo?" Maddie asks again. She's getting really stressed. I need to do something. I move over towards her and put one arm around her protectively, trying to comfort her. Now I need to tell her.

"Look, Maddie..." I start, unsure of exactly what to say. I need to let her know that she should be the one to survive. Whether I will end up letting her kill me is another thing completely, but she deserves to win this more than I do.

"I know than only one of us can go home," I continue. "And my family, are well-off; rich, even. They don't need me," I say. It hurts me to say this. It makes me sound as though I've given up already, even though I haven't. But there's truth in my words. For all the grief that my death may cause, life will carry on without me. They will be able to survive without my help. Something that can't be said for Maddie's family.

Maddie seems to realise what I'm saying, and I realise I'm making things worse for her. She's almost crying. Poor girl. I need to help her, I can't bear to see her so upset.

"Oh, Ludo, please don't..." she whispers, understanding my meaning before I've even fully explained myself.

"Maddie, you need to go home," I continue, making sure that she listens to my words. "You have to survive this. For your dad. For Max and Hugo. Win this thing, and let your family escape poverty forever."

"If only it was that easy, Ludo."

"Oh, but it is!" I exclaim. "We can stay allies, easily finish off all the others, and then... And then..."

I'm stumbling with my words again, and it's doing nothing to help Maddie.

"And then we'll fight to the death?" she says almost angrily. I can see that she wants that scenario as little as I do.

"No, Maddie." I reply as strongly as I can. "We won't."

"And why not, Ludo?" asks Maddie, looking exceedingly worried. "This is the Hunger Games, after all."

What do I say now? I guess I should be honest.

"Because," I begin cautiously. "I could never bring myself to kill you."

Maddie seems slightly taken aback by this, but nonetheless remains nervous as to our future.

"Why won't you try to kill me, Ludo?"

Great. Now what do I say? I should be honest, but that means admitting my love to her. I don't know if I dare. I look around myself. In the darkness, the wilderness of the arena looks picturesque. There's no noise at all, except the crackling of the fire. If I'm ever going to tell her, where would be better than in this location, huddled together near the warmth of a fire?

I pull myself closer to Maddie, preparing to answer her question in the most direct form possible. I can't just say it out loud; I don't want all of Panem to know. This declaration of love is for Maddie only. I'll whisper in her ear. Only she will know. My next sentence, which reflects years of emotions, takes a lot of effort to force out, but somehow I manage it.

"Because," I whisper, taking a deep breath to compose myself. "Because, Madelaine Harper, I love you."

I can hear Maddie gasp next to me almost as soon as I say the words. She shifts her weight so that she can turn to look at me. I'm shocked by her reaction. Her face seems to have cleared, her mood lightened in an instant. Her eyes, that projected frustration and sorrow just moments ago, now project something akin to hope and joy.

"Oh, Ludo," she says, and hugs me. And she won't let go. I guess I was right to tell her. Maybe, just maybe, she has feelings for me too? No, I shouldn't hope for anything from this. But could it be true?

Maddie pulls away from me. There are more tears in her eyes now, though she doesn't seem upset at all.

"Ludo," she begins, her voice wavering. "Ludo, I-"

Bang.

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**A/N: Thanks for reading so far, I hope you've enjoyed it :) Reviews are welcomed :) A further note to mention that the first of a series of oneshots giving a second perspective to this story has been posted. The oneshot, called 'Family Pride', gives an insight into the motives of the boy from District 2, Quintus. If you're enjoying this story, I recommend that you give it a read, and it can be found on my profile page :)**

**Thanks for your continued reading,**

**GM97 :)**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Thanks for cotinuing to read this story :) Just a quick word to recommend reading my series of oneshots showing sections of this story from alternate POVs :) Sorry if this chapter's a little short, I hope you still enjoy it :)**

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**Chapter Sixteen**

**POV: Ludovic Robertson (15), Male Tribute, District 4**

**The Arena**

**9.10 pm, Tuesday 17th July (Day 3 of the Games), year of the 66th Hunger Games**

The cannon splits us apart, and thoughts of Maddie and of home are abandoned. All that matters is the arena and survival. My best bet is that the Careers played a part in the last death, but whose cannon was it? Another weakling, or one of my allies? I guess I'll have to wait and see.

Me and Maddie are on our feet now, our weapons out, carefully watching the tree-line. The Careers can't have gone far; they only left about twenty minutes ago. We'll probably be able to see some sign of fighting.

Now that I'm away from the fire, I put on my coat and jumper, which allow me access to all eighteen of my knives. Maddie has grabbed a sword from the pile of weapons we have stored at camp. We stand together, heavily armed, watching for any sign of movement. If anyone makes a break into the clearing now, they won't get far. Between my knives and Maddie's sword, they won't make it to the cornucopia. We don't have to wait long for someone to arrive.  
About three minutes after the cannon, a tall, athletic boy scrambles through the trees into the clearing, heading straight for our camp. It takes me a few seconds to realise it's Robin. He's out of breath, red-faced and his eyes are wide with a mixture of adrenalin and fear.

"Run!" he pants. "Grab your kit, we're leaving!"

So, the Alliance is falling. Maybe the cannon was for one of the other Careers. I know it wasn't Sophia, as I can see her scrambling onto the clearing behind Robin. They both look tired. And desperate. No doubt the others will be after them. We need to move quickly.

I turn back to my hammock, and check the contents of my backpack. Robin arrives at camp and does the same.

"What happened, Robin?" I ask whilst zipping up my backpack. Everything is still there.

"No time to explain," he replies quickly. He's still out of breath. Evidently he had been running hard for a long time. "I'll tell you once we're out of here."

I quickly look around camp and see if there's anything else I need. A hammock? No, I've got a sleeping bag. Firewood? No, we can collect more. More food? No, I've got plenty and we can hunt if we need to. I don't think there's anything else to take. I'm ready to go.

Maddie's already at the exit of the camp, bag packed, sword in hand. Robin's getting up to leave, too. Sophia has her bag packed, but is searching for a weapon. I guess that she lost her combat axe when escaping the other Careers. Although both Robin and Sophia are very tired, it's a miracle that neither of them were injured. There must have been violence. But now is not the time for questions. Now is the time to escape Quintus' Alliance. Now is the time to be free of his control.

As Sophia stands up holding the bow that Maddie discarded earlier, Robin breaks into a run once again, heading for the cornucopia. We all run to try and catch Robin, but he's a faster runner than any of us.

"Where are we going?" shouts Sophia to Robin. He seems to have established control of our new Alliance. That being said, I don't really care who's in charge at the moment, as long as we've got somewhere safe to go.

"To the desert!" calls Robin as he passes the cornucopia. "To the desert!"

The sprint past the cornucopia seems to take years, though in reality it probably took about a minute to reach the edge of desert. Robin has waited for us at the edge of the sand, trying to catch his breath.

As we arrive at Robin, we see Quintus burst out of the woods on the far side of the cornucopia, quickly followed by Pearl and Remora. He's clutching his left upper arm, and is clearly injured. He spots us, and realising that he won't catch us, he throws a spear towards us. It barely travels the fifty yards from him to the cornucopia, never mind the sixty yards from the cornucopia to us.

The arena is almost completely silent at night, so we can hear every word that Quintus bellows at us.

"MARK MY WORDS, ROBIN HURST! YOU'RE NEXT, SO WATCH YOUR BACK!"

_Sounds like somebody's angry_, I think. Robin doesn't react at all to this very vocal threat, he just turns and begins to run into the dunes. We turn and follow Robin into the desert, leaving Quintus and the cornucopia far behind us.  
We walk slowly through the dunes for what feels like hours. After walking for what I guess is about an hour, we turn so that the distant mountain is on our right, taking us back towards the woods. Eventually we reach the edge of the woods, probably miles from the cornucopia.

"Everybody stop," says Robin, who's very tired after hours of walking. "This will do for tonight. We'll set up camp about fifty yards from the edge of the woods, to give us visibility. Everybody unpack, I'm getting firewood."

Robin walks up to the nearest trees and starts snapping off the lower branches. Meanwhile, I unpack my supplies before helping Sophia unpack hers. Once everything is unpacked, I look at what we have.

We are all armed. Robin has his bow, as does Sophia. Maddie has her sword and I have my knives. We have three quivers of arrows between us.

We all have sleeping bags, and three of us have coats. Unfortunately, Maddie doesn't, and by this stage in the night, she's almost frozen. She's already huddled up in her sleeping bag as Robin returns to light our fire near to her.

Looking at the other supplies, we should be fine. We have at least a week's worth of food, and although our water might only last us for another day or two, that's plenty of time to find a new source. Luckily, we still have two flashlights, which will come in handy at night. Robin has our only pair of night-vision glasses. Quintus and Pearl were wearing the other two pairs in tonight's hunt. If I'm honest, we're as well-equipped as the three tributes that we abandoned. And we outnumber them. We are the dominant force in the arena now.

Maddie and Sophia curl up in their sleeping bags by the fire and fall asleep quickly. I don't blame them; it's been a long day. We've been on the move for hours, and now it must be past midnight. It's day four. Wednesday 18th July. And now our Alliance is down to four.

I help Robin to drag a large log over to our new, makeshift camp, which we use as a bench. We sit next to each other, and Robin pulls out a bottle of water and gulps over half the bottle. I know he's been a long time without a drink, but if we get through water at that rate, we'll have run out by the end of the day.

My thoughts return to our escape from the other Careers earlier in the night.

"What actually happened earlier, Robin?" I ask.

Robin leans back, takes a deep breath, and begins his tale.

"We found a tribute within ten minutes of leaving camp," he begins. "It was a lad, from District 8, I think."

"District 8 died at the cornucopia, Robin." I reply, correcting him.

"District 10, then. Whoever it was," snaps Robin. I can tell he's tired. He's getting irritable. Still, he continues his story. "He was a fighter, and somehow he was armed. Two knives, he had. I've no idea where he got them from."

I know. I lost two last night, chasing Isabella. Maybe District 10 stumbled across them.

"He lashed out at Remora, and ran." continues Robin. "She got cut up pretty badly. Large gash on her left wrist. It took us about five minutes to catch him. Then Quintus had him pinned against a tree, and said that he would pay for what he did to Remora. It was just like that boy from Three. I couldn't let it happen again."

Robin pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing.

"Sophia could tell that I wasn't going to let Remora have her way. She started slowly backing away from the others, so that if we did run, she'd have a head start. I backed off, too. I readied an arrow and waited for the ideal moment to strike."

"At the boy?" I ask, unsure of his meaning.

"Yeah," answers Robin. "Though I knew Quintus would react if I shot the boy, so got a second arrow prepared, just in case. I waited until Quintus was in conversation with Pearl before I shot. The boy's cannon was almost instant. I was amazed when Quintus reacted so quickly. But I was prepared. As he lunged at me, I shot him. It wasn't clean, though. I got him in the forearm. But it was enough to distract him, and allow me and Sophia to escape."

That explains why Quintus was holding his arm. Robin had injured him. It sounds like we're in much better shape than the rival alliance. We outnumber them, and two of them have injuries, while all four of us are unscathed.

"I don't know what happened to Sophia, I was running so fast towards camp." Robin continues. "She lost her axe somewhere, not that it matters anymore."

A silence descends between us and I know that Robin has finished recalling tonight's events. It's a lot to take in, really. I take a moment to collect my thoughts, and produce a situation report in my mind.

There are eleven of us left in the arena. In my Alliance, there is me, Maddie, Robin and Sophia. We are well-armed, well-supplied and in good health. Surely now we are favourites to become Victors in the Capitol.

The remaining Careers are in their own Alliance. Quintus, Pearl and Remora. No doubt they are still based by the cornucopia. They are equally as well-equipped as we are, but two of them are nursing injuries. In future days, as input from sponsors becomes evermore crucial, I can guess that they will have a lot of support from the Capitol.  
Of the four remaining tributes from the outlying districts, I only know one by name. Isabella. Unless she's picked up a weapon today, she's unarmed. When the time comes, she'll be an easy kill.

If my memory serves me correctly, the only other three faces that I haven't seen in the sky belong to the girl from Five, the boy from Six and the girl from District 8. Aside from the fact that they were next to me at on the pedestals before the bloodbath, the only thing I know about the girl from Five and the boy from Six is that their training scores were mediocre at best. Evidently they're worth more credit than what I gave them if they've survived this long. The only thing I remember about the girl from District 8 is that she scored a five in training. Nothing else. I wonder what she's up to now.

I notice that Robin has fallen asleep next to me, lying across the log that we've been using as a bench. The fire should keep him warm, at least. I realise how tired I am, but don't reach for my sleeping bag. Somebody should stay up to guard camp. That being said, the other Careers won't be going anywhere tonight. Even if they are, I doubt they'll find us. We must be miles from the cornucopia. The other tributes won't be stupid enough to be walking round at night, not with the Career packs on the hunt. They won't know of the split. Not yet, anyway. Even if they are walking about, I doubt they'll march in solo at a camp of four Careers.

Safe with this knowledge, I allow myself to put down my sleeping bag next to the fire. It's been a long and tiring day, and I allow myself the luxury of sleep.

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**A/N: If you've enjoyed the story so far, please review :) I'd like to know what you think :) As ever, constructive criticism is welcome :)**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

**POV: Ludovic Robertson (15), Male Tribute, District 4**

**The Arena**

**8.00 am, Wednesday 18th July (Day 4 of the Games), year of the 66th Hunger Games**

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I wake suddenly to the sound of a cannon. Well, there goes another. Only ten of us left. I wonder who that was. I guess I'll have to wait for tonight's death recap to find out.

All of us have been startled awake by the cannon. From the look of things, Sophia was already awake, as she is sitting on our makeshift bench by the now-dead fire, eating a banana. It's still early in the morning, but the sun is high enough in the sky for me to strip off my coat as I rise from my sleeping bag.

"What's the plan today, Robin?" Maddie asks as everyone gathers to eat.

"Judging by our level of supplies," starts Robin. "Water is our main priority."

"Where will we find water?" I ask.

"I'm not sure," says Robin. "I think our best bet would be to try and take a short-cut through the woods to find the lake that we came across on the first night."

"Do you think that's far away?" Sophia asks.

"I've no idea myself," I add. "It was difficult to judge how far we travelled last night. All the desert looked the same."

"I agree with Ludo," says Robin. "Though I'd guess if we follow the edge of the woods, we're about two miles from the cornucopia. I'd guess that would put us about three miles from the lake."

"Should we get going then?" asks Maddie. "We haven't got a choice, we need water. I say we get ahead."

"Wait," says Robin. "We need someone to guard camp."

"I thought this was only temporary," says Maddie, who doubts Robin.

"So did I," replies Robin. "But after getting a better look in daytime, this spot is easy to defend. And we're miles from the other Alliance. They'll never find us here."

"Good point," says Sophia. I notice that away from the other Careers, she seems a lot more vocal than before. "So, who's staying to guard camp?"

"I think two people should," I say. "That way, if we come across anyone, it will always be two on one."

"Unless we come across the other Careers," adds Maddie.

"Then it will be two on two," I reply. "They won't be stupid enough to leave camp unguarded. We've escaped them once, we'll do it again."

"Then it's decided," confirms Robin. "Two of us will stay. I'll volunteer to guard camp. Who's will me?"

"I'll stay too, Robin," responds Maddie.

"And me and Ludo will search for water," says Sophia. "How many empty water bottles have we got?"

We search our supplies and find seven empty bottles. We cram them all into Sophia's backpack. We don't take any of our other supplies out, as if we encounter trouble, we should be able to survive on our own until we can regroup with the others.

We leave almost immediately and head into the woods. After about an hour, we've got nowhere. We've walked at least two or three miles and found nothing. We head uphill, as the whole arena seems to be on a slight slope, with the cornucopia being the highest point.

After about fifteen minutes more, we come across the lake. The same lake that we found the District 3 boy at on the first night. We get out our bottles and fill them up. After our hard walk, I get ready to take a large swig of water.

"No, Ludo!" warns Sophia. "That water hasn't been treated yet!"

She's right. I check back across at the lake. It's stagnant water. It definitely needs treating. I take off my backpack and rummage through it, searching for iodine solution. Iodine solution... Somewhere, there must be some... Where's the iodine solution! I don't have any. I punch the ground in frustration.

"What is it?" asks Sophia, looking worried.

"We don't have any iodine solution," I say frustratedly.

"How are we going to treat the water then?" asks Sophia, appearing increasingly worried.

"I don't know," I say sullenly. I sit on the ground by the lake and throw a stick into the water out of frustration. We sit in silence for a moment before our question is answered.

About twenty yards from us, a small silver parachute lands at the lakeside. I rush over to it, and open the small box underneath it. There is a tiny bottle in it, containing liquid. Could this be what we need? I open the bottle and put one drop of the liquid on the tip of my index finger. The skin stains brown. Good. This liquid is iodine solution. We can use it to treat the water. Now we won't suffer from thirst.

"What is it?" asks Sophia, craning over my shoulder to look at the small bottle.

"Iodine solution," I say, rushing over to the bottles of untreated water.

"How many drops do you have to add to each bottle?" asks Sophia.

"I think it's four," I say, adding four drops of the liquid to each of the seven bottles. "Now we have to wait half an hour for the water to get treated," I say.

"Well," replies Sophia. "We might as well do something in that half-hour then, mightn't we?"

"Like what?"

Sophia looks up the hill towards the cornucopia. We're about half a mile from the edge of the trees.

"I guess we could head uphill and take a peek at our friends at the cornucopia," she says, smiling playfully.

"I'd rather not go," I say. "I don't want to take any risks. I'll stay here and wait for the water to be treated. But you can go if you want."

"How will we contact each other?" she asks.

I return to my backpack and pull out my electric torch.

"Here," I say, offering Sophia my electric torch. "Take this. I'll keep my eye uphill. Flash three times if you need me, and I'll come up to you."

"Okay, Ludo." replies Sophia. She then takes the torch, turns away from the lake and starts to walk uphill towards the cornucopia.

The next half an hour passes slowly as I wait for the water to become drinkable. After about twenty minutes, I see three flashes of the torch from the top of the slope. I guess Sophia wants me at the cornucopia. I doubt she's in trouble, otherwise I she would be running back down the hill towards me. Most likely there's some useful information she wants to tell me or something like that. I guess the water will still be treated wherever I take the bottles, so there's no reason to stay at the lake. I pack them into my already-crammed backpack and carry them uphill to Sophia.

It takes me ten minutes to reach her. She's crouching behind a bush in a gap between two trees. I crouch next to her, and put down my backpack at the foot of one of the trees. I pull a knife from my belt. Somehow, I don't quite feel safe here. We're about thirty yards from our old camp, but I'm confident that nobody will see us.

We watch the camp in silence. All three Careers are there. Quintus is asleep in his hammock. I can see that his left arm is bandaged. No doubt they've used the first aid kit- the first aid kit! I find myself silently cursing myself for not remembering to bring that with us when we left camp. We're lucky none of us are injured.

Pearl and Remora are awake, and moving around camp. Pearl is sitting on one of the logs by the fire; the same one that me and Maddie were on when I told her that I loved her. Only just over twelve hours ago. It seems like so much has happened since then. Remora, who was playing with a knife whilst lying on her hammock, has got up to join the girl from District 1. The arena is so quiet; we can hear every word that the two girls say.

"Hey," says Remora as she approaches Pearl.

"Oh, hi 'Mora," says Pearl, startled by Remora's quiet approach. Remora sits down next to Pearl.

"How're you?" asks Remora.

This is odd. The two girls aren't arguing. Maybe they've finally realised their situation. The Games are now well underway. There's no time left for arguing. Whatever their motives are, they appear to be friends. For now.

"Not bad," Pearl replies, sighing. "A little stressed, but I've been worse."

"Why're you stressed?" asks Remora, pulling off 'concerned' quite successfully.

"Last night," replies Pearl sullenly.

"When the others left?"

"Yeah. It made me realise that we're stuck here."

"What do you mean?" asks Remora, now appearing more worried than concerned.

"The others made the right choice. Get out early." replies Pearl.

"Why do you say that?" questions Remora.

"What use are we to Cato, 'Mora? Honestly?"

"We give him support hunting tributes and gathering supplies," replies Remora confidently.

"What happens when all the outlying tributes are dead?" asks Pearl, becoming aggravated, but taking care to keep quiet, so as not to wake Quintus. "What happens when we have enough supplies to survive for weeks?"

"Quintus will turn on us."

"And what can we do then?" asks Pearl worriedly.

Remora pauses, giving the question deep thought before answering.

"Nothing, Pearl."

"Exactly," replies Pearl. I can tell she's panicking. "When Quintus decides to turn on us, there's nothing we can do. Our strength is in hand-to-hand combat. We fight with swords."

"Quintus won't need to come within range of us," picks up Remora, getting more and more worried by the second as reality begins to kick in. "He could kill both of us easily with his arrows and spears without us getting in range. It doesn't matter that we outnumber him. We'd never be able to place a scratch on him."

I have to say that for all their aggressive behaviour, the two Career girls have surprised me with their intelligence. I didn't expect them to have thought so far ahead. I guess they were taught strategic planning in the Training Centres.

"We can't even choose to turn on him," continues Pearl. "He'd overpower us, 'Mora."

"And we can't run away," adds Remora. "He'd shoot us before we get a hundred yards."

"Couldn't we go now, while he's asleep?" asks Pearl.

Remora gestures over towards Quintus' hammock.

"Look," she says, pointing to the supplies under Quintus' hammock. "We wouldn't be able to survive on our own without those supplies. And we won't be able to take them without waking him."

"So we can't leave?" asks Pearl disappointedly.

"No, Pearl. We can't."

"So what can we do?" Pearl still sounds very worried.

"Not a lot," replies Remora. "I guess we just have to wait."

"Until when?"

"Until it's our turn."

This seems to shock Pearl. I can see tears in her eyes. Now I notice that Remora's almost crying too. Could this be? A Career, actually _crying_? I never thought I'd see the day.

"Our turn to die?" asks Pearl, her voice barely above a whisper. I can tell she's scared now. All her arrogance and bravado is gone. She's just a scared little girl.

Remora shrugs and stares at the floor.

"There's no easy way of putting this, Pearl." She sighs, takes a deep breath and lifts her head to look straight at Pearl. She's crying now. _Properly_ crying. "We're doomed."

Now both girls are crying, and they cling to each other for support. I doubt such a display of unity has been shown by two Careers in decades.

And suddenly I feel guilty for secretly bearing witness to such a personal moment. A moment in which two fearless warriors realise all their attempts will be in vain. There is no escape for them. They are going to die.

Suddenly I feel so disgusted with myself for watching this that I turn immediately and run away from the cornucopia into the woods. I don't even know where I'm going, and I don't care, either. All I want is to be away from the two girls at the cornucopia. I actually almost feel moved to tears myself. But this is the grim reality of the Hunger Games. A reality that these two girls have only just embraced.

Only when I'm out of breath do I stop running, and I realise I've left Sophia behind. I must be a mile from the cornucopia. I turn back for her, but find my way blocked by two tributes, who advance on me, fully armed.

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**A/N: If you've liked this story, then check out my profile for related works (such as a series of oneshots) and other news on the story :)**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: *Sigh*... I'm glad I've finally got this one written, it was hard work! Hopefully you'll enjoy it :)**

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**Chapter Eighteen**

**POV: Ludovic Robertson (15), Male Tribute, District 4**

**The Arena**

**1.30 pm, Wednesday 18th July (Day 4 of the Games), year of the 66th Hunger Games**

* * *

I find I'm cursing myself for running from the cornucopia so quickly as I weigh up my opposition. It's the boy from District 6 who approaches me first, armed with a combat knife. Only a couple of inches taller than me, but with a much weaker build. I'm sure I can take him. I reach for the knives on the inside of my coat when I realise I'm only in my vest. I left my coat with my backpack in our hiding spot by the cornucopia. I only have the two knives in my belt to help me.

Feeling pressured by the advancing tribute, I fumble to get a knife from my belt and hurl it carelessly in his direction. I'm lucky that I actually manage to hit the target, although I merely form a small slit in his right thigh as the knife flies past him. When I hear screams a second later, I realise the knife must have found his accomplice, the girl from Five. I stop and stare for a moment as the girl falls to the floor, with a knife embedded in her left shin. It won't kill her, but she won't be able to put up much resistance now.

The pause costs me. Dearly. The boy slams into me with all his body weight. He's not particularly heavy, but it's enough to send me sprawling onto the ground. He stands over me, smiling triumphantly. As he attempts to bring his blade down at my chest, I kick at his shins, causing him to fall onto me. I roll out the way just before his knife lands where my neck had been, burying itself into the ground up to the handle. He abandons it, realising that he hasn't the time to pull it out in the midst of a fight.

It's only now that I remember my own knife. I pull my second knife from my belt as I stand, and watch my adversary stand five yards from me. The triumphant smile is now gone; all that remains is fear. Now I am the one with the knife.

I charge at him, not wanting to miss with another throw. I run at him with my knife hand raised, but at the last moment he moves to the side and he sticks out a leg, causing me to trip. My left hand flails, looking for a purchase, and I find myself grabbing onto his collar as I fall, pulling him to the ground with me.

As I roll away from him upon landing, I can tell that the fall has affected him more than me. The way he groans as he struggles to regain his composure tells me he hit his head. Hard. Still, he's not completely useless. Not yet.  
As he tries to stand, he slips and fall onto his back once again. I seize the opportunity and dive on him, trying to force him into the same submissive position as Isabella was in, during the second night of the Games. I succeed with one hand, but before I can pin his right hand to the floor, he lashes out at me, punching me squarely in the chest.

I topple backwards and fall to the floor, winded. My enemy lurches upright and dives at my right hand. I'm still holding the knife. We tussle on the floor as I resist him, and we roll every which way, trying to emerge victorious. In terms of strength, we're even. I'm sure I could kill him in many other ways easily, but a young tribute (I guess he's thirteen or fourteen) with a low training score can still match me for strength. I've known all along that fights like these will be my downfall.

As if the boy can read my thoughts, this is the moment he chooses to end the bout. He manages to put nearly all his weight onto my right wrist, forcing me to reflexively loosen my grip on the knife. Sensing his opportunity, the boy from District 6 grabs hold of the knife and plunges it deep into my thigh.

The pain is instant and blinding. I find myself struggling to remain conscious as my breathing becomes irregular. My leg feels hot, and I can tell I'm bleeding badly. The pain is almost doubled as he pulls the knife out, opening the wound to the elements. As I regain my sight momentarily I can see the boy smiling maliciously down at me, revelling in his victory.

The woods are silent, apart from my sporadic breathing and the sobs coming from the girl from Five, who is still there on the floor. I suddenly feel worried that if that girl can hold on to consciousness for this long with her injury, my pain may never leave me. As more of my blood seeps out of me onto the hard-baked dirt, my mind starts to lose focus of its thoughts. I feel empty, cold, alone. The boy is still here. I think. Even when I can see, my vision is hazy. He has gathered three knives now; one that was in my leg, one that was in the ground, one that I threw at the girl. The pain seems never-ending. I told myself I would never give up, but in a choice between prolonged suffering and a slow death from blood loss and a quick, relatively painless death from one of Robin's arrows, I know what I would choose. Sadly, that is not a choice I get to make. If this is dying, then this is not a good way to go.

My brain seems to be losing control. Colours no longer exist in my mind. The world is only shades of grey or nothing at all. I'm vaguely aware of the boom of a cannon as the girl's screams are abruptly stopped.

I hear the heavy thump of a body hitting the floor behind me, and I try my hardest to work out who it was as the cannon fires.

I'm aware that someone is standing over me, and I struggle to regain my sight.

I look up to see the sunlight dappling through the canopy above me. Such a beautiful sight. I doubt I'll see anything as perfect again. My leg no longer hurts, I'm just cold and numb all over. My senses are starting to slip away. It'll be over soon.

It turns out I was wrong about the canopy. I find Maddie staring down at me, her brilliant blue eyes just as perfect as they always were. I'll miss them when I'm gone. I find that silent tears are falling down my face. This is it. I'll never see her again.

Weakly, I hold my hand up to touch her face. It's so soft. So perfect. I manage to run my fingers through her copper hair once before my arm loses all its energy and collapses onto my chest.

"Maddie..." I murmur, amazed I can still speak.

"It's not her, Ludo," says the girl above me, her voice wavering. "It's not her."

I don't quite understand. Not at all. Maddie is with me. She's right above me. I don't know what she's talking about. I don't care, either. As long as she stays here until I'm gone.

"Please stay," I say weakly. "I don't want to be alone."

I see her mouth moving but don't hear Maddie's reply as I slip away into the blackness.

Next time I wake, I can see Maddie concentrating on my leg. I can't quite see what she's doing, as I can't lift my head. But I can tell that my leg is no longer bleeding, although I still can't feel a thing. I can see a parachute by Maddie's side. Medicine. No doubt from Mags and Finnick. Finnick! I'll never see him again. Even with this medicine, there's no way I'll survive. I've already lost too much blood. That's why I keep passing out. I've no idea how many times. And I don't know how long I've been lying here. It's still daytime, but I might have been here fifteen minutes or five hours. I can't tell. Either way, I doubt I'll make it through the night. This will be my last day on Earth.

I struggle to regain my composure as I think of all the places I'll never see again. Home. My parents. Bella. The kind man across the street that used to look after me on Tuesdays after school when my mother and Bella went shopping. Mr Adams, my school teacher. The lads at school; Brandon Mullery, Dylan Cresta, George Collins, Finnick. Finnick! I try to conjure up an image of him in my mind, but I can't. I can't remember. I guess that in my final moments I'm losing my mind. Not good, but I don't care. Maddie is here. And she will stay to the end.

"Maddie..." I whisper again.

She looks down at me and shakes her head again.

"I am not her."

"Please, Maddie." I beg, starting to feel distressed at her distance from me. It doesn't feel right. "Stay with me whilst I die."

"You're not going to die," is all she says as she stands from my leg and comes back to sit by my head. I guess she has finished trying to patch me up. Not that it will make any difference.

"I'm too far gone for you to save me," I manage to mumble, and Maddie shakes her head in disbelief.

I can barely see anything now. Everything is a whirlwind of fog. Everything but her. Her eyes are the only bit of colour left in my world. I can feel the end coming. She's beginning to blur.

"I love you, Maddie," I manage to get out before my whole world fades to black.

* * *

I wake to see the sun beating down. Hot, summer sun. I can see palm trees overhead. I can feel water underneath me, and I bob in it, lazily floating on my back. This is paradise. Alone in a desert oasis. At least, I thought I was alone. Maddie's perfect face appears above me, and I feel tears in my eyes. It's going to be alright.

"Is this heaven?" I ask Maddie deliriously.

Maddie seems taken aback at first, then bursts out laughing. Then the trees fade from sight and the floating sensation vanishes. The oasis was just a mirage. A hallucination. But those brilliant eyes remain, though they belong to a different face. Maddie was never here. I am alone in the arena desert with the bright blue eyes of Sophia Mellark.

"Don't worry, Maddie's still here," she says, joking.

I suddenly blush after asking such a ridiculous question, and look around me. Maddie isn't to be seen. We're at our camp, but neither Robin nor Maddie are with us.

"What happened, Sophia?" I ask.

"Can you see me now, then?" she taunts, still laughing. She sees the determined look on my face and stops when she realises how desperate I am for information.

"Come on, Mellark," I say, using her surname to assume authority. Or, at least, attempt to. "I don't even know what day it is."

"Day seven," she replies. "Saturday 21st July."

"Day seven?" I say incredulously. "Have I really been out for three days?"

She nods in reply. "You haven't missed much, though."

"Sophia," I ask. "What happened to me?"

"I'll tell you what," Sophia says. "The others are out for the afternoon, hunting for food and collecting water from the lake. Our supplies are almost gone. We've got a few hours to kill, so I'll tell you the whole story."

I try to sit up, to get in a more comfortable position that lying on the floor in my sleeping bag. However, I'm still really tired and very, very weak. Sophia has to help lift me out and sets me on the log that we use as a bench.  
"You must be hungry," she says, and I nod. She prepares me most of our remaining food supply as we will have more food for the evening. As she re-heats the remainder of our rabbit meat for me, she begins her tale.

"We woke in the morning to cannon fire," she begins. "It was District 10."

So, the boy from ten is out the game. I know for definite, two more have gone. I hear the cannons when I was half-dead. Then again, the deaths might have been hallucinations. I shan't count them yet. But with District 10 gone, there are ten of us left at most.

"You know what comes next," Sophia continues. "The search for water and spying on the Careers."

As she mentions the Careers I feel as though a massive weight has dropped on my chest. I still feel guilty about overhearing Pearl and Remora's conversation. And ultimately it is the cause of my condition.

"You ran off," she continues. "I collected your belongings and followed you at a slow jog. But you had left me."

I remember this. I remember panicking when I realised I had left her behind. But it was too late by then.

"I only found you because of that girl's screaming. I was amazed the Careers hadn't already reached you when I arrived."

"I killed the girl," I say. "I threw a knife."

"No," replies Sophia. "I killed her. I finished her with my bow. The idiot from Six who stabbed you was still hanging around the area. I killed him, too."

Sophia hangs her head in shame. I can tell she finds it difficult to accept what she has done. I feel the same thing. I just try to forget and focus on getting out of here.

"You were badly injured," she says. "But you were lucky. Sponsors sent you medicine. They healed the wound."  
This is news to me. I check the wound. The cut is much shallower than I remember it being. It still hurts, but the pain is nothing compared to before. I've just got to be careful on it for a couple of days. I'd better not exert myself too much.

"The wound was healing, but you'd lost so much blood you were in hysterics. I thought you were going insane."

"I thought I was," I manage to reply. It takes so much effort to speak.

"Then you passed out, and I waited until you were over the worst of it before I started to carry you back here."

Maddie was never with me in the woods. It is Sophia I have to thank for saving me. Not Maddie.

"Thank-you," I manage to say. "You saved my life."

No reply comes from Sophia. I guess she doesn't know what to say about that.

"Why did you do it?" I ask curiously.

"I felt like I had to," she replies.

"Why?" I ask. I'm confused.

"Because I felt like I owed you," she begins. "You saved me at the cornucopia. You stopped Maddie from slitting my throat. You're the reason I'm alive. I couldn't just let you die. I have to repay my debts."

Now it is my turn to fall silent. I have no idea what I can say to that.

"I don't expect you to understand," continues Sophia, filling the silence. "But it's what I believe in."

"But I _do_ understand, Sophia," I reply.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Sophia remains silent. I guess she wants more of an explanation.

"Do you remember the second night in the arena?" I ask.

She replies with her own question.

"What about it?"

"When we caught that girl from Seven stealing supplies."

"Oh, yeah," she says. "I remember that."

"Well, I let her go to repay my debts to her," I say.

"What did she do for you?" Sophia asks.

"Nothing," I reply. "But I let her down. I could have saved her brother at the cornucopia, but I let him die. I let her get away to make amends."

Sophia falls quiet for a moment before replying.

"I understand."

I know that she means it, too. We're very similar, me and Sophia. In terms of the way our minds work, at least. She must be able to guess my thoughts so easily. I think just like she does.

A silence fills the gap between us. Eager to break it, I restart the old conversation.

"What else did I miss?" I ask.

"Not much," Sophia replies.

"Nobody else has died. There are eight of us left."

Eight. Just eight. District 4 seems nearer than ever before. Me, Maddie, Robin and Sophia. Quintus, Remora, Pearl and Isabella. One of us eight will become the Victor of the 66th Annual Hunger Games.

"Who's been looking after me?" I ask, curious to know how I've survived three days unconscious.

"Me and Maddie have been taking care of you alternately. Robin has been keeping us in food and water for the last three days," begins Sophia. "You've been steadily improving for the last three days. You lost so much blood, you're lucky to still be alive. You just need rest and your blood levels will rise back. I guess another day or two, and you'll be back at full fitness," she says optimistically.

At this point, the food is cooked, and I dig in to a hearty meal of rabbit. Until I started eating, I hadn't even noticed how hungry I was. No I want to get as much food into me as possible.

Whilst I'm eating, Sophia continues to talk to me.

"I'm slightly disappointed you woke up today," she says, which confuses me. "It would've been better if you'd have woken up to see Maddie, not me."

"Why do you think that?" I ask.

"You'd have preferred it, wouldn't you?"

"Why would I though?" I ask again, although I know the answer. Still, it surprises me when Sophia knows the answer too.

"Because you love her."

I have to turn away so she can't see my blush. It's the one event I can clearly remember between getting injured and passing out. I know I was hallucinating, but what I had said was true. I told Maddie that I loved her, only my words fell on Sophia's ears, not Maddie's. If this is the only thing I remember, what else did I say to her?

Maybe Sophia and I know more about each other than we think we do.

* * *

**A/N: And so ends Part Two! Only nine chapters to go! As ever, please review to let me know what you think :)**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: A quick messsage to thank Richards25 for all the contributions towards the closing stages of this story :) many of the arena events in the remainder of the Games have been originally his ideas :)**

* * *

**Pt. III- Grief**

**Chapter Nineteen**

**POV: Ludovic Robertson (15), Male Tribute, District 4**

**The Arena**

**2.00 pm, Saturday 21st July (Day 7 of the Games), year of the 66th Hunger Games**

* * *

The afternoon passes slowly, as my three allies keep me up to speed with the happenings of the arena. According to Robin, the other three Careers are still united. I imagine that they will stay that way until our alliance has either split or lost a couple of members. Four on one will mean near-certain death. There has been no sign of Isabella in days, apparently. She's been keeping a very low profile. A suspiciously low one, if I'm honest.

None of our rivals make an appearance before dusk. At the daily death recap, which today shows no deaths, Robin speaks out about a topic that I've been dreading.

"We won't be left alone for long," he begins.

"What do you mean?" asks Maddie as we stand by the fire, staring up at the Capitol Seal.

"It's been three days since there were any deaths," continues Robin. "The Gamemakers won't leave us alone much longer. The lack of action will be boring the viewers."

He's right. Gamemaker intervention will be the next change in the Games. Aside from the lava lake at the bloodbath, there has been very little in terms of twists and turns added by the Gamemakers. No doubt they still have a couple of cards to play.

"What if us four are the only ones to survive the Gamemaker traps?" asks Sophia. Everyone stares at her in silence. This really is forbidden territory. No alliance should talk about this.

"Then it's everyone for themselves," answers Maddie. "After all, there's only one Victor."

"But we should go respectfully," adds Robin. "We give each other time to prepare for a fair fight."

"Agreed," I say. That way, the person who will win will be the person who deserves it most."

"But no splitting until everyone else is dead?" asks Sophia.

"Of course," I say. I've never even considered betraying my allies. Well, not the allies that I liked. I never planned to stay with Pearl or Remora. I see Maddie nod in respond to Sophia's question. She's staying with us, too. Robin opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off by the deafening sound of thunder.

I hadn't noticed how dark it had got in the arena. It happened so quickly. Much too quickly to be natural. This must be the Gamemakers' doing. This might even be a direct response to our conversation. I don't have time to think it over; I run to my backpack and take my electric torch. Maddie stands close to me, and Sophia grabs a torch of her own. I see that Robin is wearing night-vision glasses, and I try not to shine my torch towards him. I know how blinding torches are to night-vision glasses. Only once we can see into the darkness do we see the real reason why night came so suddenly.

Mutts.

There is no other way of explaining the creatures that head towards us through the dunes. Squat, large, rounded bodies. Spindly, hairy legs. Matt black with hundreds of blood-red eyes. Spiders. Just spiders. But they are five feet tall. Four of them ascend over the final dune towards camp.

As threatening as the spiders might be, I am the only one who tries to run. But then I realise that the Gamemakers would not introduce the spiders to the Games if we could simply outrun them. We will have to fight, and I'd rather do it on my terms than on theirs.

Robin has already realised this, and has an arrow prepared for the first shot. The two girls cling to each other, paralysed in fear. Arachnophobia. I've known for years that Maddie has had a weakness for it. I guess Sophia has the same issue. It looks like me and Robin will be fighting this battle alone.

Robin has shot one by the time the other three spiders have reached camp. Now the girls have run back to the edge of the woods, screaming all the way. The spiders seem to follow the girls, as though they only want to harm the two tributes that are absolutely terrified of them.

But Robin still protects the girls. He manages to kill a second spider before I notice movement in the woods behind me.

Out they come from the woods, slithering and hissing. Snakes. Three of them. Long, strong, heading straight for me. No doubt they are poisonous. I can hear screaming, and it takes me a few seconds before I realise that I'm the one making the noise. I hate snakes. They terrify me, and now there are three just in front of me. Those horrid slippery scales, that unnerving hissing and those piecing eyes. I'm shuddering involuntarily.

Maddie and Sophia are still pre-occupied with the spiders, of which only one is still alive. I throw a knife into the body of one of the snakes. Not a killing blow, but it has pinned the snake to the floor, incapacitating it very effectively. A second snake lunges at me, and I dodge to the side to avoid its presumably venomous bite. As its head passes me, I drop down hard on it, driving my knife through the top of its head. It quivers for a few moments before lying still. Now only one snake and one spider remains. We're all at the edge of the woods, with the spider advancing from the desert and the snake advancing from the woods. As I return to my feet after killing the second snake I see Robin turn his attention to the remaining snake, only to watching something fall behind him.

The sound of shattering is quickly dwarfed by a persistent hum as a cloud of insects take flight. The Gamemakers just dropped a wasp's nest on us. The whole swarm head straight for Robin, who turns and runs into the woods. We lose sight of him shortly afterwards as our attention is turned on the final spider. Maddie kills it quickly with her sword, stabbing it deeply in the body, and I throw a knife for good measure. Then we hear the cannon.

"Robin!" Maddie calls, running into the woods after our ally.

As she leaves, I realise why the insects targeted him. The Gamemakers placed something in the arena to draw fear. The snakes were drawn to me, as I have a fear of snakes. Evidently the Gamemakers knew this, somehow. Luckily I was able to fight them. Likewise, Maddie and Sophia have a fear of spiders. The Gamemakers knew that either Robin doesn't have an animal phobia or they don't know what phobia he has (I don't know myself), which is why I know those insects weren't natural. They were tracker jackers, genetically-engineered wasps with stings that cause hallucinations and drive out your worst fears. It was their way of bringing out fear in him.

I've become so sidetracked from my thoughts that I've forgotten the last snake. I only remember about it as I see it lunge at Sophia. I know there's nothing I can do to help her. I daren't risk throwing a knife for fear of hitting her.  
"Sophia!" I call, trying to warn her.

I see her turn to me with her mouth open to speak, but all I hear is screams as the snake sinks its fangs into her calf. I run over to her as she falls, still screaming. I deal with the snake easily, pulling my largest knife from my belt and severing its head cleanly and quickly. I drop the blood-soaked blade and run over to my fallen comrade, kneeling at her side.

Sophia is no longer screaming, but I can tell from her frantic breathing and the occasional low moan that escapes her lips that she's in a lot of pain. No doubt the bite was poisonous. I look down at the wound on her left calf. While there is little bleeding, the rapid swelling looks alarming. There's nothing I can do for her. Well, not unless sponsors get her an antidote. I don't want to sound negative, but I'm not hopeful.

The price of an antidote at this stage in the Games would be extortionate. Even if there is enough money in District 12's coffers, I doubt that Sophia's lone mentor has enough sense to know what to do with the funds. He's nearly always drunk.

As much as I want him to, I know that Finnick will not send one. Whilst there is a good chance that District 4 will have sufficient funds, I know that Finnick won't 'waste' hard-earned cash on Sophia. In his eyes, she's just another obstacle in between me and home. His job is to get me home, not take pity on dying girls from the outlying districts.  
So Sophia will die. She will die a victim of the Gamemakers, slowly poisoned to death in a hostile wasteland hundreds of miles from home. Such a terrible way to go. Looking down at the dying girl, I realise how much I want her to survive. Despite the fact that I didn't know her two weeks ago, I feel nearly as close to Sophia as I do to anyone else. Something about the life-or-death mentality of the Hunger Games has drawn us together. Something about our desperate situation has led to our bonding. Strictly speaking, we might not be friends, but our unity and camaraderie has left our relationship unparalleled in Hunger Games history. Never before have tributes from opposing districts cared for another like they would a brother or sister. Usually inter-district alliances end as soon as a tribute is weakened. Take the Career Alliance, for example. Every year, injured tributes are either left to die or turned upon by their so-called allies. But that's the way the Games work.

This year, we've been looking out for each other since the bloodbath, where I saved her from Maddie. Whether it was due to feeling in debt to me or other reasons, Sophia has been close ever since. I know a lot about her just due to nights alone at camp with her. Her district partner was her nephew's best friend. She's the youngest of four children. Her eldest brother is the town baker.

And she stuck by me through thick and thin. She saved me from certain death after my confrontation with District 6, and with Maddie's assistance, she nursed me back to life. I'll be forever grateful for that.

We've always been with each other in the arena. She's been a constant in my week since we left the Capitol. I can see her coughing and hacking beside me. The venom is starting to take effect. I just don't want Sophia Mellark to go.

I know now that even if I'm given an antidote, she's too far gone for me to save. The venom acts too quickly; she's slipping from my reach. All I can hope for is that she dies happily.

I have no idea how to make her happy. I just hope that she can dwell on happy memories.

"Ludo," she says weakly, holding a hand up at me.

I grasp hold of her hand tightly with both of mine. I don't want her to go from my reach.

"If I-"  
"Tell me about District 12," I say, wanting her mind to leave the arena behind and retreat into a calmer, happier world during her final moments on Earth.

Sophia sighs, and begins the story of her life.

"I was born on April 20th, 2313," she begins. This comment throws me out a little. Nobody uses old-world dates any more. District 4 call this year 66 A.D.D, or the 66th year after the dark days. An easy system to remember, considering the number of the Hunger Games held matches with the year, but I think I'm correct in saying that today is also Saturday 21st July 2331. A quick calculation tells me that Sophia is eighteen years, three months and a day old. Not much of a life there.

"My father was the town baker," she continues. "As was his father before him. A simple life, but it gets enough food on the table and enough coal in our fireplace for us to survive. That's more than can be said for most of our District.  
"The Seam- the area of Twelve where the miners live- is riddled with poverty. Barely anyone there lives comfortably. Only the few hundred folk who live near the town square and surrounding Market are lucky. Lucky enough to survive.

"The Seam kids are the ones who give District 12 such a dismal reputation at the Hunger Games. Weak and under-fed, they never survive. And there are so many of them; they get reaped nearly every year."

I know what she means. The one thing I remember about District 12 is the dull similarity of all their tributes. All with the same drab look about them; all with straight black hair, all with grey eyes and olive skin. All of them underfed and under-prepared. They never last long. Only one has; Haymitch Abernathy, the useless drunk who won the Second Quarter Quell. I've no idea how he managed it, his Games are never shown in televised repeats.

Occasionally District 12 does have a strong, well-prepared tribute such as Sophia who survives into the latter stages of the games. All of them Aryans like me. None of them have ever survived. Taking into account the cannon from a few minutes ago, Sophia will finish seventh in the 66th Annual Hunger Games. No that it matters what position she finishes. Only first place matters. Everyone else will be dead.

"My mother made clothes for the miners," Sophia continues. "She sold them to the managers of the mines, who distributed them amongst their workers. Then she met my father and left her job to become a housewife. Her first son, Jonathan, would become head of the family when my father died eight years ago. He'd already taken up my father's profession, but was now in full charge of the bakery, aged just twenty-one. That being said, he married at seventeen in 2319, when I was six. The next year, his eldest son Ryan was born. My first nephew.

"In 2324, when I was eleven, my mother died. My elder sister Grace had already left the household, but me and my fourteen-year-old brother were placed under the care of Jonathan and his wife. We never got on with our sister-in-law, but me and Edward cared for the children whilst Jon was working in the bakery, so we never saw her much.  
"Two years ago, Edward left home to work as a foreman in the mines. I've barely seem him since, as he's had to work twelve hours a day, seven days a week. Plus, he's had to move to the Seam. But the pay is good for a foreman, so he's still well-off on his own.

"Now I want to leave the bakery behind me. As much as I want to stay with Jonathan, it reminds me too much of dad. I'm amazed Jonathan can stand it, taking up dad's role. I want to work at the school, to help prepare future generations to cope with the dangerous world of District 12. I've had plenty of practice caring for my nephews, so I'm sure I won't have any issues with the job. So now I wait for a job to come up, and while I wait I continue to look after my nephews. At eleven, Ryan is old enough to lend a hand in the bakery, but nine-year-old Callum and eight-year-old Peeta are still far too young. So I care for them every day. Now that I am here, they will have to entertain themselves during the days-"

Sophia's story breaks off as she gasps sharply, no doubt due to some sort of pain. She's going, and judging by the silent tears streaming down her face, she knows it, too. I grasp tightly to her hand, silently willing her to stay with me. I don't want to be without her in the arena.

"It won't be long now," says Sophia quietly.

"Don't say that, Sophia," I say, pleading with her. "Never give up."

It seems almost that I care whether she lives or not more than she does herself.

"It's over for me," she says without fear. "It's up to you to win now, Ludo."

At least I know that in our days together, she has grown to like me enough to wish me luck once she's gone. Suddenly I feel guilty about being powerless to help her.

"I'm sorry-"

"There's nothing to be sorry about, Ludo. I never stood a chance. My mentor made sure of that," Sophia continues, trying to console me. Really it should be the other way round, but I'm glad she's still here. For now. Then Sophia looks past me up at the sky and shouts out.

"You hear that, Haymitch? YOU WERE USELESS TO ME!"

Then she's laughing, laughing so hard that I'm worried she might die of it. Then the hacking cough silences her, and her breathing seems more sporadic than it ever was before. She's near the end now.

"When I'm gone," she whispers, so quiet that I have to lean over to hear her. "You have to find Maddie. She'll keep you alive."

Her words confuse me slightly, but I nod. Even if we've lost Robin (the cannon earlier might have been his), I have to stay with Maddie.

"She loves you, you know," is all else Sophia whispers to me before her eyes glass over and she leaves this world of murderers behind her forever.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

**POV: Ludovic Robertson (15), Male Tribute, District 4**

**The Arena**

**8.15 pm, Saturday 21st July (Day 7 of the Games), year of the 66th Hunger Games**

* * *

Maddie arrives back at camp as Sophia's cannon fires. I reluctantly let go of her still hand and turn to face Maddie.

"I couldn't find him," she says dejectedly, her face flushed with anger and frustration. "I followed him into the woods, but the swarm was all over him."

"Was it his cannon?" I ask.

"Not the first one," replies Maddie. "He was still in sight when-"

All the colour drains from Maddie's face as she notices Sophia's body behind me. She rushes over towards the fallen tribute, checking the pulse at Sophia's neck. Maddie sighs and hangs her head dejectedly.

"What happened?" she whispers.

"Mutts," I say, but I don't want to talk about to talk about her. Memories of her death will only bring tears. "There was another snake."

My vague description seems to satisfy Maddie, as she nods and gets to her feet. She takes Sophia's coat and bow, and walks over to me.

"We need to move," she mutters as she reaches me.

"So the Gamemakers can collect the body," Maddie replies, walking past me into the woods. I have no choice but to follow.

It's ten minutes before the hovercraft appears to remove Sophia's body. As she is lifted into the sky, her final words come back to me. She said that Maddie loves me. Was that just a guess? When would Maddie have been able to tell that to Sophia? I guess she had three days to tell her while I was recovering. But did Maddie mean it, even if she did say it? Part of me wants the answer to be yes, but I know that we will never be together. The Hunger Games have taken that from us. It will be easier for me to decide our futures if she doesn't love me. Less thinking will be involved in our inevitable decision, if we become the last two.

Then Maddie speaks out, breaking our silence.

"I'll miss her," says Maddie quietly, staring into the clear sky.

"Really?" I ask, surprised by Maddie's statement.

"Yeah," she replies. "I owed her everything."

So it's not just me who felt like Sophia's kindness shouldn't go unpaid.

"After the cornucopia, she's protected me so many times. Without her, we'd never have escaped the other Careers. And without her, you wouldn't be here anymore. As much as I want to claim that I saved you, Sophia did all the hard work."

I nod, but no words form themselves. I don't want to think of Sophia. Not until the Games are over.

"What are we doing about Robin?" I ask, eager to change topic.

Maddie sighs before answering.

"I guess we leave him. If he finds us, he's welcome to rejoin us. But until he does, we need to think as a pair."

"If we're a pair, we shouldn't stay here." I reply. "We should keep moving. We don't want to be ambushed now."

Maddie nods, but makes no move to leave. "We should stay at camp for the night," she suggests. "Get well-rested and leave in daylight. We won't need to use torches then. They will only advertise our position at night."

"Fine," I reply. "We should get some rest."

We sleep in shifts, staying huddled together to share warmth. The desert nights are bitterly cold, and tonight seems colder than usual. I stay awake for a few hours, before waking Maddie when I can't force my eyes open any longer. I quickly slip away as sleep pulls me under.

* * *

I wake to a bright sky, but the sun is lower in the sky than on previous mornings. I guess it's about nine or ten in the morning. Maddie leans over me, unsuccessfully trying to rouse me gently.

"Ludo, we need to go," she says. "Quickly."

"Why so urgent?" I ask.

"Water," she replies with a sense of urgency. She rolls our three remaining water bottles across towards me. All three are empty. Realising that we have no water brings urgency to me.

"We must go to the lake," says Maddie demandingly.

I can see that the lake will be a death-trap. I'm sure the other Careers use the lake for water, and I know for certain that Robin will. If he's alive. We've been lucky not to encounter anyone at the lake during our trips for water so far.

"Isn't there anywhere else we can get water from?" I ask hopefully, but Maddie shakes her head.

"No, Ludo," she says disappointedly. "If there is, we don't know of it. I don't want to waste time looking for something that we may never find."

She's right. We need water desperately, and the lake guarantees us water. Any risks that are involved are risks that we simply must take.

"Fine," I say. "Let's go to the lake."

We spend half an hour packing up our bags. As we may never return to this camp (it will be hard to defend with only two of us), we're taking everything of worth with us. Coats, food, weapons, sleeping bags, everything. Eventually we have all the supplies we need, leaving behind only dead firewood and Sophia's surplus supplies, as well as what Robin didn't have time to grab before his rushed exit. We don't attempt to hide the supplies; nobody has found our camp in the last week, so I doubt they will now.

As we trek into the woods for possibly the last time, I make sure that I'm well-armed. I now have twelve knives left, six of which are in my belt. Maddie has her sword out, and has a bow over her shoulder. One issue that we won't have today is lack of firepower. Even with the numbers being against us, I wouldn't bet against us surviving a confrontation with the other Careers, with or without Robin.

After about an hour's walk, we arrive at the lake. I quickly fill up the three water bottles and add four drops of iodine solution to each bottle, in order to purify the water. We spend the first ten minutes of the required half-hour wait resting by the lakeside, recovering from our hour-long walk.

"Where shall we go now?" asks Maddie once we have recovered. The walk itself wasn't the issue; the searing heat and humidity was what made it difficult.

For once, my instinct answer will be incorrect. I would suggest returning to camp, but for the first time in the Games we no longer have one. I would suggest searching for a good place to survive tonight, but that would mean venturing into unknown territory. Not a wise move at this stage in the Games. Everyone has come to learn their area. I don't want to fight on someone else's turf. Then I remember what I did when I came here with Sophia.  
"We could go up the hill, and see what's going on at the cornucopia," I suggest. "It could give us more information about who we're fighting, at the very least."

For once, Maddie doesn't seem to have her own suggestion. Maybe she fully agrees with me. Either way, she picks up her backpack and starts walking the gentle slope to the cornucopia.

It takes us ten minutes to reach the same vantage point that me and Sophia held four days ago. Looking out over camp, Quintus sits alone in the shade under the tarpaulin roof. He seems well-supplied and well-armed. He won't be an easy target. With the two of us, we could probably take him right now. But we don't want to risk it. Maddie has leant her backpack against one of the two tree trunks, and I do the same. We won't be leaving in a rush now. Evidently Maddie doesn't feel safe enough to launch an attack on Quintus.

Judging by his condition, he's still allied to Pearl and Remora, wherever they are. As currently I have one unexplainable death, there's a chance that one of them died last night, during our mutt attack. Even so, one of them must still be allied to Quintus. I can tell this as his lack of fatigue indicates that there's someone with him. Even sponsors couldn't keep him so pristine. Also, the girls wouldn't have been able to escape without a fight, and there isn't even a scratch on Quintus. They must still be allied to him, but where are they? Gathering supplies or hunting tributes, probably. Either way, they're not our main concern, currently.

After about five minutes, Quintus stands and leaves camp, heading to the woods, sword in hand. And he walks almost directly at our hiding spot. If he gets much closer, he'll see us. And then our advantage will be gone.

I turn to look at Maddie, hoping that she's ready to leave. A glance into the clearing tells me that Quintus is closing in quickly. I see Maddie gesture behind us. She wants to move out, and I don't blame her. I don't want to be here when Quintus arrives.

I turn to get to my feet but find my path blocked.

I don't even need to look at their faces before I know who's blocking my way. I drive my elbow into the nearest girl's stomach, incapacitating her for long enough for me to dive past her. I run downhill at a full sprint. Judging by the cries of pain behind me, the girl that I struck out at was Remora. I feel as though I'm travelling light, and then realise I don't have my backpack. It's too late to return for it now. I see an arrow fly over my shoulder and I look back behind me, searching for the bow that it came from. Maddie is the closest to me, but Pearl and Remora are hot on her heels. I can see the bow in Remora's hand. Quintus is a few yards further back, charging down the slope with his sword. I guess that he knew we were there. Pearl and Remora must have crept up behind us and signalled to him. No wonder he came straight at us.

The ground seems more uneven underfoot, and I turn back round to-

_Smack._

* * *

I must have been unconscious, as the next thing I know, I'm being dragged to my feet. I'm disoriented and my ears are ringing, and the throbbing in my head makes everything worse. Still, I'm not bleeding. I'm aware that someone is holding onto me, but it takes me several moments to realise that it's Maddie. She's shouting something at me, but the ringing in my ears is so bad that her words are discernible. I can see the three Careers closing in on us, and I regain control of myself, scrambling away over roots and bushes towards the lake.

Maddie's pushing me forward, urging me on. Somehow, despite the pain in my head, I manage to keep my balance. My senses return to me as I run, glad to recover both balance and hearing after my incident with a tree. I feel two more arrows fly over me, and I turn to check our distance from the other Careers. They're gaining, but we're only a couple of hundred yards from the lake now. We have to keep going.

As I turn my attention back towards my destination, I lose my footing once again and fall, rolling over and over in the dirt before coming to a standstill at the foot of a tall beech tree. Remora runs straight past me, but I have Pearl's attention.

She runs over to me and grabs by my collar, hoisting me off of the floor. I'm too dazed to retaliate until I'm pinned by the next to the tree. With her spare hand, Pearl works a knife from her belt and grins at me maliciously.

There's nothing I can do now. Both my feet are off the ground, and I'm struggling for air, due to her hand being around my neck. My only hope is to reach for one of my own knives, but her body is pressed against mine, blocking them from reach.

"Where's your friend, District 4?" she spits at me, all her angst being directed at me.

"The archer, Robin?" she asks. "Where is he?"

She's getting angry, but I don't know the answer to her question. I merely shake my head in response. Evidently this isn't enough for Pearl.

"Liar!" she snaps, holding her knife to my face. "Where is he?"

I can't do anything. She won't accept the truth. And sadly, she's the one with the weapon. I'm entirely at her mercy. Suddenly, I understand why she's asking about Robin. Without him here, there is no mercy killer. She can do what she likes with me, and nobody will stop her. I will be her example to the other tributes.

Memories of the small fourteen-year-old boy from District 3 come flooding back at me, and due to these memories, the fight is returned to me. I flail my legs wildly, and succeed in kicking Pearl hard in the shins. She loses her balance and falls, but grabs onto me so that I fall to the ground with her. I see that her knife has buried itself in the tree trunk as she fell forward. Good. It's of no use to her now.

We recover from the fall at the same time, and I frantically pull a knife from my belt and hurl it at her. Unfortunately, she ducks and it flies into the undergrowth. I look down to pull a second knife from my belt, but just as I pull it free, I'm struck at full force by Pearl. The impact on my cheekbone is so strong that it causes me to lose my balance and I land spread-eagled on the floor. Pearl stamps on my right hand, forcing me to reflexively let go of my knife. She reaches down, picks it up, and throws it away into the woods. I've only got four knives left now.

I try to get to my feet, but Pearl kicks me back down, momentarily knocking the wind out of me. Then she's on top of me, holding me in the same submissive position that I used to trap Isabella on the second night. I wonder if this was what it felt like for her, faced with imminent death. Pearl pulls a knife from my belt, and holds it to my throat. My own weapon turned against me. That small detail angers me. If she will kill me, I will die with dignity. I will not beg for mercy, as Pearl will surely want me to. I will make her victory as hollow as possible.

"Time's up, Four," sneers Pearl cockily, her old arrogance returning to her. "Nowhere to go now. It's a pity you chose the wrong side."

I realise I prefer an angry Pearl to an arrogant one. Anger brings out mistakes in her.

"I wouldn't say that if I were you, White," I jeer in reply. "What happens when Cato no longer has use of you?" I choose my next words carefully, to make sure that I infuriate her. "You're doomed, Pearl."

I watch her face turn from red with embarrassment to purple with rage. By using Remora's exact words, I've made it clear to her that I was spying on her camp. I'm not surprised that she's enraged.

I can see that she's going to lose control, and I watch her raise her weapon hand, ready to strike. _This is it,_ I think. The Hunger Games are over to me.

Pearl starts to lower the blade, but her arm stops halfway. Our eyes meet briefly before we both focus on the arrowhead that protrudes from Pearl's chest. Our eyes meet again, and I see tears forming in her eyes, a sad smile forming on her lips. Then she collapses, crumpling onto the floor beside me.

I push the heavy corpse off of me as the cannon fires, and I see Robin standing twenty yards in front of me, bow in hand. At first I'm relieved, but then I remember that he's not with me and Maddie anymore. I go to raise my hands in surrender, but Robin just laughs.

"Don't worry, Ludo," he chuckles. "I'm still on your side. If you want me to be, of course."

"Great," I manage to say as a reply as I get to my feet. I look down at Pearl's body and take a minute to compose myself. Half of me can't believe this has happened. One of the Careers is dead. The Games are drawing to a close.  
"We need to get away from here," states Robin, who uses a tone that suggests that his statement was a command.

My eyes are drawn to movement on my left side, and I can see Quintus and Remora running off towards the cornucopia. Robin watches their escape too.

"No doubt they've gone to rest up and resupply," he continues. "I'm sure they'll be back."

Maddie has appeared by Robin's side. She appears worn-out but without injuries.

"You okay Ludo?" she asks. "No injuries?"

"Not really, but my head still hurts a little," I say, laughing.

Robin brings the discussion back on track quickly.

"First things first, we need to leave," he begins. "We can catch up with each other whilst we walk."

He turns on his heels and heads off in the general direction of our camp. Me and Maddie stand waiting for more instructions, but none come. After about fifteen paces, Robin turns back to us, looking frustrated.

"You two coming or not?"


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One**

**POV: Ludovic Robertson (15), Male Tribute, District 4**

**The Arena**

**11.30 am, Sunday 22nd July (Day 8 of the Games), year of the 66th Hunger Games**

* * *

The journey back to our camp takes longer than usual, as we have to stop for rest regularly after the exertion of the morning. Camp is in the same deserted state that we left it in this morning. Realising that we probably won't be returning again and that we now have far too much to carry with us, we prepare ourselves the largest and most extravagant feast that we've had since entering the arena. It's better than leaving the food to waste. Whilst preparing the food, Robin strikes up conversation.

"So, there's only five of us left," he begins. "Us three, Quintus and Remora. What do we do now?"

I think about Robin's question whilst opening a packet of dried meat, and realise that I don't know the answer. But one way or another, I feel like today is the crucial day. I don't think I'll be spending another night in the arena. From now on, an aggressive strategy might be beneficial.

"We should hunt them down," I say.

"Agreed," says Maddie confidently. "We handled them earlier, thanks to Robin's intervention. We should be able to take them again."

"What actually happened earlier?" I ask.

"Whilst you were fighting Pearl, Remora and Quintus came after me," explains Maddie. "I fought off Remora, but Quintus was closing in. Then Robin showed up and Quintus fled, and Remora followed suit. They abandoned Pearl, and Robin shot her to save you."

I can't believe I've only just managed to add up the pieces. Robin shot Pearl. He killed his district partner. One of the unspoken rules of the Hunger Games is for tributes not to harm their district partners. I hadn't expected Robin to sink that low. Even within the Career districts, where it isn't uncommon for the final two tributes to be from the same district, killing your district partner is still seen as a cardinal sin. The magnitude of what Robin has done is immense; he saved a tribute from another district at the expense of his district partner. I can't recall the last time this happened in the Games. It was many years ago, for sure.

"Where did you go after the mutt attack yesterday?" I ask Robin.

"To the lake," he replies. "I couldn't shake those damned insects. So I hid in the water; they couldn't follow me there. I only got stung once."

He holds out his left hand, and I can see the plum-sized swelling on the back of his hand. Those insects were definitely tracker jackers. Nothing else could cause such a large swelling. I'm half expecting his next sentence when he says it.

"I had a rough night's sleep, too. I had slept in a tree and stayed in it until I realised I had to get down for water. Then I walked back to the lake, where I heard fighting, and you know the rest."

This makes sense. Tracker jackers are known to give terrible nightmares. The Gamemakers managed to give us all plenty of fear from the attacks. And I'm glad he got down for water when he did. Without Robin's assistance, me and Maddie would probably be dead by now.

"So, where do we go now?" asks Maddie, breaking the silence.

"The cornucopia," I reply. "We should hunt down District 2."

"Will they be there?" asks Robin.

"They should be," responds Maddie confidently. "That's where they were heading when you arrived. Plus, they're still using the camp in the clearing."

"Ok, we'll go to the cornucopia," says Robin. "Before we go, how is everyone faring up? Any injuries?"

"No," I reply, aware of how lucky I am to be able to say that. My leg wound has been hurting slightly, but not enough to hinder my performance. Maddie's answer is identical to mine.

"What about weapons?"

"A sword," Maddie replies, holding it our for us to see.

"Three knives," I say, which attracts shocked looks from the others. "Most of them were in the backpack, which I lost during the fight earlier."

I can see that Robin still has his bow and a handful of arrows. He's well-supplied.

"What about other supplies?"

"I lost mine," I say frustratedly. Only now that I'm without it do I realise how important my backpack was. "But you two have plenty, I'm sure we can ration everything out if we need to."

"Ok, Ludo," says Robin. Once he has finished eating, he stands, putting on his backpack.

"We should go and get this over with," he says nervously. He's right. A look in the sky tells me that it's already mid-afternoon. I don't want another night, as I doubt we'll survive it without Gamemaker intervention, and that is the last thing that I want at the moment. I doubt my nerves will cope, either. Of the five tributes remaining in the arena, four of them will probably be dead in two hours. The nerves are getting me. Even though it will probably mean my certain death, I'm too nervous to wait any longer and I just want to start the final confrontation of the long and tiring 66th Annual Hunger Games.

Me and Maddie rise to our feet to follow Robin to the cornucopia.

"Shouldn't we head into the desert?" asks Maddie, generating surprised looks on both mine and Robin's faces. "They'll be expecting us to attack from the woods," she explains. "By approaching from the desert, we'll have the element of surprise."

"Good point," says Robin. "We'll go into the desert."

And with that comment, we follow Robin into the desert, leaving camp for what will surely be the last time.

As the afternoon passes, it seems as though all time slows to a halt. The heat is unbearable, and fatigue is starting to set in. Yet again, I strip down to my vest in an attempt to cool myself, but any victory against the heat is only temporary. We could use water to cool ourselves, but we only have two litres of water to share between three of us, and no idea when we'll find water next.

I also feel like we're getting nowhere. I'd have no idea how long we've been walking for if it wasn't for the sun. By judging from it's position, I'd say that it's two or three in the afternoon. In late July, that gives us about another six hours until night. Plenty of time to hunt down Quintus and Remora.

When we finally stop for a rest amongst the never-ending dunes, Robin is the first to speak.

"Should we head back?" he asks tiredly. I can tell he won't be able to go much further.

"There's no point," says Maddie. "It would be quicker to head towards the clearing now than return to camp. Besides, there's nothing there left of worth."

"I'm not sure about that," replies Robin. "We did leave quite a lot behind. And I could do with a rest, anyway."

"So are we going back?" I ask.

Robin takes another moment to think. "I'm not sure," he replies. "I-"

Robin cuts off as his eyes open wide with fear, his jaw drops and his hand points out over my shoulder. Both me and Maddie turn in the direction of Robin's hand, and find that we mimic his expression.

Fifty yards from us, there is a swirling mass of light brown clouds, moving swiftly just above ground. I notice the wind start to pick up, and I know that the moving body will be travelling towards us. A sandstorm. The Gamemakers have made our decision for us. Run or die.

I turn to run, and get ten paces before Robin calls me back. I stop and turn to face him, but refuse to move closer to the sandstorm.

"Don't run, Ludo!" he calls out to me. "The Gamemakers have designed this for us, and they won't just let us escape. We will be in that sandstorm, whether we like it or not. We might as well prepare for it while we can."

He's right. We might only have twenty or thirty seconds until it arrives, but every second will make us more prepared. I put on my long-sleeved khaki top for added protection, and draw a knife. I might need it.

I end up cursing myself when I look up to find Robin and Maddie putting on face masks. I lost mine when I left my backpack in our spying spot near the cornucopia. It might not protect eyes, but the face mask would be a lot better than nothing. Then the sandstorm is upon us, and my world is flung into chaos.

The force of the sand hitting me almost knocks me over. Suddenly I have almost no visibility as the flying sand blots out almost all light. I can only see about three metres in front of me. Not only do the sand grains sting as they buffet against us, but after hours in the blazing sun, the sand is hot, too. I'm quickly covered in hundreds of tiny scratches and burns, adding to my discomfort. As I'm without a face mask, I have to alternate between covering my mouth (which allows me to breathe without getting a lungful of sand) and covering my eyes (which allows me to see without getting sand in my eyes).

"Maddie!" I shout, eager not to lose my allies in the storm. "Robin!"

The two shapes emerge out of the mist towards me, although I can't identify them until they're six feet from me.

"Where do we go now?" I shout. The whirling sand makes it very hard to hear. Maddie mumbles a reply, but I can't comprehend it.

"What?"

"We should get out of here!" she yells.

"Where to?"

"Anywhere!" says Robin. "Anywhere that's out of this storm!"

Due to the low visibility, progress is slow as we struggle to travel through the storm. Slowly the burns start to irritate more and more, until it's almost unbearable. We need to get out, and fast.

After what feels like eternity, the sand underfoot changes to a hard-baked mud, and we find ourselves in the remains of the forests. The trees stand dead, stripped of both their leaves and their bark by the terrifying effects of the storm. Whole bushes and shrubs have been uprooted by the wind, and the whole place seems inhospitable.  
Suddenly Robin drops to his knees, hacking and coughing. He must have inhaled a lungful of sand. It must be ripping him to shreds inside, and burning anything it comes into contact with. The pain must be terrible. I can see him trying to hold back tears as me and Maddie lift him to his feet.

"I'll be fine to carry on," he says, now that he's able to breathe again. But I notice as we stumble through the storm that his speed has been reduced, and that he's constantly clutching his ribs. After his incident, I'm extra careful to cover my mouth by pulling up my shirt before breathing.

About ten minutes after entering the now-dead forest, the ground underfoot turns to a hard-pack dirt and grit. This must be the cornucopia clearing. Only the floor tells me where I am in the arena. About five yards in front of me, the sand seems to be denser. As we push through the dense layer, we're suddenly out of the storm, and the lack of resistance on my body causes me to topple onto my front as I escape. My hands are cut by the dirt, and as I look up I'm dazzled by the mid-afternoon sun. The first thing I can make out as I try to stand is Robin's silhouetted figure crumpling with an arrow in his throat. I stare in shock as I watch my best friend in the arena collapse, never to rise again.

It takes me a few moments to realise how this could have happened, and when I do, my attention is on the cornucopia thirty yards away, and more importantly, the two tributes standing in front of it.

Quintus stands triumphantly, bow in hand. Remora jeers at me by his side. Looking across past Robin's body, I can see Maddie sprinting towards the cornucopia, armed with her sword. Remora runs to meet her, and soon I hear the metallic clang as blades clash, Remora desperately trying to fend off Maddie's blows.

Which leaves me and Quintus. Quintus Cato, the leader. The torturer. The murderer. The enemy. I see him reach for an arrow- his last arrow- from his quiver as I start to cover the ground between us, a knife in my right hand. Instinctively, I throw the knife at him. It misses and buries itself deep into the metal of the cornucopia behind Quintus, but it has served its purpose. It distracted Quintus for long enough for me to reach him without him shooting the arrow at me.

Only once I am with striking distance of him do I realise that I'm unarmed, and that I have no time to pull one of my two remaining knives from my belt. I lunge with both hands at the bow, but Quintus dodges sideways and uses a hand to add to my momentum, sending me sprawling onto the floor. I scramble to my feet and turn to face my adversary. We're five metres apart and start to circle each other, scared to make the first move.

Aside from a bow and one arrow in his quiver, Quintus is unarmed. I have two knives. But we have reached a stalemate. Quintus has no arrow ready, so he cannot shoot me. If he charges at me, I will kill him. I have the knife, and I'll throw at him. If he reaches for an arrow, he'll receive a throwing knife to the chest. But I daren't throw unless I have to. If I miss, Quintus will be upon me before I can draw my final knife from my belt. And I can't charge at him; he'll overpower me. He's nearly a foot taller than me, and much more muscular.

"So, Ludovic Robertson, District 4," taunts Quintus as we steadily and slowly circle each other, waiting for any sign of weakness. "It's a pity that this is your last day on Earth."

I'm not affected by his taunts, I've heard too many from Pearl to take him seriously.

"Quintus Cato," I reply, mimicking his tone. "District 2. You deserved to live your last day many years ago."

"These Games aren't about who deserves to live," he replies. "It's who wants it most. Who feels the desire to win the most."

"And you feel that I don't have such a desire?" I ask cautiously.

"Maybe you do," he replies. "But you desire will never be as strong as mine. My family needs me-"

"And mine don't?" I snap at him, angered by his comment. "What about Maddie's then? Don't they need her? When the only reason why she is here is because she had to take tesserae to support her family?" I know I'm flustered, but Quintus has outraged me. I can feel the anger burning hot in my cheeks, but I don't care. Not now. Quintus remains silent, so I continue.

"What about Robin's family?" I say, gesturing at the body lying on the dirt about forty yards away. The sandstorm has started to recede, and I can see how far his blood has spread. Having lost so much, it's a miracle he's still alive.  
As I gesture, the cannon sounds. I guess he was never going to survive for much longer.

"What about his family then, Cato?" I shout at him, letting out all my anger. "You've ruined them for life! They just watched their child get murdered on live television!"

Cato gives a careless shrug. "He was always going to die. Hurst never could have taken me."

"That's irrelevant!" I snap. "How many people have you broken in these games? Not just the twenty kids that are already dead, but the families that will spend years in grief?"

"It's not like I care," he replies. "My family will welcome me like the hero I am."

"Do they really care, Cato? To murder innocents just to get a pat on the back from dad?" I can tell I'm being harsh now, but after how he has infuriated me, I want to inflict pain in return. Not just physical pain; mental torture is somewhat a speciality of mine. I remember how I enraged Pearl earlier.

"Tell me, Quintus," I say, deliberately using his first name to annoy him. "When you die, will your family care?"

He's taken aback by the question, and takes time to answer. "My family has every confidence in my abilities. They consider it duty to fight in the Hunger Games."

"Duty?" I say, surprised.

"My father was in this place once," he says proudly. "And I am here to follow in the family footsteps."

Great, a son of a victor. No wonder he's so headstrong.

"But if you don't make it home, will anyone miss you? Brothers? Sisters? A special girl somewhere?" I taunt.

I can tell that I've hit a nerve. His face turns slowly red and he talks to the floor, not me, as he answers.

"There's no girl," he replies. "Having devoted my life to the Games, there's no time for that sort of interest. But my brother wholly looks up to me. I have to be there for him, so that he can follow in my father's footsteps, just as I am now."

Deluded as Quintus may be, he fights for family, and for that I respect him. Who am I to question his motives, anyway? I'm just a boy with a knife separating him from District 2.

I don't answer him, so Quintus continues.

"Why do you fight, Robertson?" he asks. "What keeps you going?"

I try to answer as truthfully as possible; after all, he's been honest with me. But at the same time, I answer so as to avoid more questions. We've been circling for minutes. As dangerous as it may be, I want to get this fight over with.

"I fight for Finnick," I say confidently in response. "But enough talk. I would actually like to return to District 4, you know."

This forces a laugh from Quintus, but then he suddenly tenses, ready for the upcoming battle. But neither of us dares to make the first move. The arena is almost silent, but for the occasional clang as sword meets sword on the far side of the cornucopia. Then the silence is broken by a harsh scream, and I watch Quintus' eyes drift to the swordfight in the other half of the clearing. This is my chance.

I throw the knife in my hand at Quintus, but unfortunately he reacts quickly enough to duck the knife, and I see him reach for his only arrow. I instinctively charge at him unarmed, and manage to punch Quintus squarely in the jaw, stopping him from grabbing the arrow once again. But his return punch is much more forceful than mine was, and I find myself seeing stars as I recoil away from his powerful fists. Then I'm hoisted up by the neck and thrown against the hot, smooth surface of the cornucopia. As I crumple onto the floor, Quintus dives at me, and I roll to one side, causing him to crash into the cornucopia. But he's on his feet as I draw my final knife, and as I approach him with my weapon arm raised, he grabs my right arm by the elbow and slams it against the cornucopia, forcing me to drop my last weapon. Quintus catches at it falls, and slashes the knife through my thigh. Straight through the old wound.

I'm screaming again, the pain is unbearable. For a moment I'm worried that I might pass out, but I manage to maintain consciousness. I quickly learn to ignore the pain as Quintus brings up his knees between my legs, and the new pain drops me to the floor in front of him. As I scramble to stand up, I'm only aware of his heel coming into contact with me just below my jaw, sending me flying.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Here it is, the final chapter of the Games! Sorry if it's a bit short, it's just used to tie up all the loose ends :) Hopefully you'll still enjoy it, though :)**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

**POV: Ludovic Robertson (15), Male Tribute, District 4**

**The Arena**

**3.30 pm, Sunday 22nd July (Day 8 of the Games), year of the 66th Hunger Games**

* * *

I hit the ground, and the harsh grit digs into my back and cuts me under my shoulder blades. My head hits the ground hard, leaving me senseless for a few moments before the pain pulsates through my body from my injured leg. Only then does the fear return, and with it comes the imminent threat of Quintus. I try to get to my feet and run, but my legs are rooted to the spot in fear and won't go anywhere. Quickly Quintus is upon me, his tall, athletic figure silhouetted by the sun. But I can still see the bow.

Even though I'm paralysed with fear, I manage to force a small uttering as he trains his weapon on me.  
"Give Finnick my regards, will you?"

Quintus shrugs and smirks. I don't get the stall that I was hoping for. Only added pressure on the drawstring of his bow. Any second now, it will all be over. I'm unarmed with nowhere to go, ten metres from my murderer. I watch Quintus' face crease in concentration just before the cannon sounds.

Both of us turn our heads towards the cornucopia and watch a beaten-up and tired Maddie rise to her feet, her sword coated in Remora's blood. I watch the brief look of surprise vanish from Quintus' face as he fires his last arrow into Maddie.

I find I'm screaming nonsensical obscenities as I watch the arrow puncture Maddie's skin, just above the collarbone. She drops her sword and staggers backwards for a few moments, her blue eyes wide with shock. Then she topples and collapses onto the dirt, remaining silent.

Suddenly nothing else matters to me but to cause Quintus every kind of pain imaginable. This monster standing in front of me has killed everyone else who I cared for in the arena. I can't allow him to have Maddie, too.

I'm on my feet before I know it, charging him down. I don't care that I'm unarmed. I'm determined to take him down. With no arrows left, Quintus drops his bow, and lowers into a fighting stance, prepared for an unarmed fight.  
My charge for vengeance falters almost as soon as I reach Quintus. Although I land one punch on his head, he quickly shakes it off and hoists me into the air, one hand around my neck.

For a moment that feels like eternity, we stare into each other's eyes whilst I hang helplessly. Beneath the sheer cold-heartedness and determination, I can see the fear in my own eyes reflected in Quintus' pale blue irises. Quintus is as terrifying and powerful as any mutt. Mentally engineered to do the Capitol's bidding. And I am his latest victim.

And then my small, relatively weightless body is flung to the floor like a rag doll, landing heavily on my spine, the pain jarring through my whole body. I take a moment to regain my senses before spotting Maddie's discarded sword a couple of metres on me. I struggle to crawl to it as Quintus closes in on me after pulling a knife out of the side of the cornucopia. I grab the blood-stained sword and flip over on my back, holding it out towards Quintus just as he dives on me for the final blow, knife in hand.

The sword goes through Quintus as a knife would through butter. Impaled by the blade, he stares down at in amazement at the sword, which is buried in him up to the hilt just below his breastbone. His force as he dived on me pushed him through the point of my blade, skewering him in the process. I hear a clatter as he drops the knife in his right hand. Then his gaze is averted to my face, as I lie below him, pinned down by his weight. And suddenly all anger towards Quintus is gone, ebbing away as quickly as his life. And I feel a new emotion; pity. He doesn't deserve this. None of us do.

"I'm sorry," I whisper when our eyes meet.

He doesn't reply with words, but his face tells me all I need to know. His eyes are wide and pale. Innocent, almost. It looks as though he's on the verge of crying. But yet he smiles wryly. He's determined to go with dignity, and for that, I respect Quintus Cato. And I will respect him as much in death as I did during his life.

I let go of the sword, and watch Quintus topple to lie at my side, the life slowly draining out of him. I lie still for a few moments, paralysed in shock. Then I hear a hacking cough, and I'm reminded of Maddie. _Maddie!_

It takes all of my energy, but I manage to stagger across to where Maddie lies, bleeding badly. She's almost completely silent except from the unsteady rhythm of her breath. Sporadic breathing. Once Sophia reached this point, there was no turning back. Maddie's _dying._

It's this thought that makes me collapse to my knees at her head, and I don't have the energy to contain my tears. I break down in sobs as she reaches up to me.

"Ludo," she says softly, her hand reaching up to trace the outlines of my face. I don't try to stop her. I can't deny her anything. Not now.

Her other hand finds mine with little difficulty, and I clutch onto it as though it means life itself for me. Looking down at her, she looks just as beautiful approaching death as ever. Her once-sleek copper hair might be matted and her features might be covered in dust and grime, but this is still Madelaine Harper. She still has those perfect blue eyes. Even when they are filled with tears, I find them mesmerising.

Then I remember why she's crying, and my own tears blur my vision until I reach up to dry my eyes.

The wound looks bad; by ripping out the arrow herself, she's damaged even more of her neck. The blood loss will be monumental. And there's nothing I can do.

"Ludo," Maddie whispers again. "I'm glad you're here with me. We've been through everything together."

She's right. After eight years of friendship, we've been through a lot. Along with Finnick, she's always been by my side. Thoughts of Finnick remind me that I'm not likely to be the only one crying. He's losing one of his best friends, too. Even though he's in the Games Headquarters in the Capitol, I'm just as powerless as he is.

"I'm sorry," continues Maddie quietly, so quietly that I have to lean in closer to catch her words. Our eyes are mere inches apart now. "I'm sorry that I've been so distant this past year," she whispers. "I should never have left you."  
I shake my head as bravely as I can. Maddie has nothing to apologise for. If she had lived her life differently, she would have become the girl I know and love today.

"I'm sorry-"

"For what?" she asks softly. "There's nothing you could have done."

The boom of a cannon rolls through the clearing. Quintus is gone. Now we are the only two left.

"I'm nearing the end," Maddie whispers, reaching into her belt for a knife that I never knew she had. Guessing her plans, I take the knife from her.

"No," I say strongly. "You can't."

"Please, Ludo," she begs. "It hurts so much. I'm already dead anyway."

She's right. Maddie won't survive. Not now. But I can make her death quicker and less painful. I can offer her mercy.  
I grab the knife in my right hand and focus on Maddie's chest. It's going to be awful, but I have to do it, it's better for her.

My arm is halfway down before I stop, my hand trembling like jelly. I know this is the right thing to do, but I cannot do it. I can't bring myself to kill Maddie. Even when it is for the better. My weapon hand slumps to my side.

"I can't do it," I say, defeated. "I can't."

"Oh, Ludo," she says softly, the silent tears streaming down her weathered face. "You must do it. It's better for me this way. I just want it all to end."

I shake my head, refusing to believe her, even though I know that deep down, it's the best thing to do.

"Please," she begs, taking my knife hand in hers. "Trust me, Ludo."

Maddie plants a light kiss on my nose as she looks into my tearful eyes, slowly guiding my knife towards her heart.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

**POV: Ludovic Robertson (15), Hunger Games Victor**

**The Arena**

**3.45 pm, Sunday 22nd July, year of the 66th Hunger Games**

* * *

I roll over onto my back, letting fatigue get the better of me as I stare into the brilliant blue sky. As my adrenalin levels lower, I notice pain return to my body. My head is ringing, my back aches badly but the main issue is the searing agony returning to my heavily-injured leg. The bleeding is slowing, but I'm still losing blood. I'm beginning to feel light-headed.

I'm worried that my incapacity will attract another tribute will arrive to finish me off. But then I remember that there's nobody else left. And the full implications of this hit me.

I've won.

I'm the Victor of the 66th Annual Hunger Games.

I can go home. I can go home to District 4, to Finnick, to my parents. I can go home to Victor's Village, to return to normality. I'll be able to see all the lads from school again. Maybe I'll fit in a bit more. Certainly I'll be more respected. I'll be able to see Julia, Flavius, Mags and the rest of my team. I'll become a celebrity, surely. And once the celebrations are over, I can return home to Maddie... No. She won't be there.

I roll onto my side, and she's only a couple of feet from me. My knife remains still in her chest, buried up to the handle. I sit up onto my knees beside her. She looks as beautiful in death as she ever did in life. I don't want to turn away. If I do, I might never see her again. I want her in my memory forever. I never want to forget my lover.  
I pull out the bloody knife from her chest and throw it as far as I can into the woods. I don't want to be associated with it anymore. I never want to have to remember what I had to do.

I reach over her body to grasp her hands. They're still warm, but are losing heat fast. I place them lightly on her chest, clasping each other.

I look up into her bright blue eyes. They look oddly innocent, but still beautiful. Slowly and carefully, I close her eyelids. I will never see those eyes again.

This really is goodbye. The strongest reminder of my childhood lies dead beneath me. This is the end. Not just for her, but for my youth. I'm no longer an innocent. During the past week, I have killed for the first time. And I have watched memories of my youth slip away from me as Maddie lay dying. But I mustn't cry again. I have already shed more than enough tears for her. I need to embrace the new era of my life confidently. I plant a kiss on Maddie's forehead before standing over her body.

"Goodbye, Maddie," I whisper before turning away, never to look back.

My eyes scan the clearing, which is littered with the corpses of dead Careers. Slowly I walk over to the body of my greatest rival in the arena. Quintus Licinius Cato. He's still lying where I left him, curled up around the sword that I drove through him. It's amazing how innocent even the most deadly of tributes look in death. Everyone appears younger. Discounting the traumatic wounds to his torso, Quintus looks as though he could be asleep. Curled up on his side, his eyes are closed with a half-smile on his face. He looks like a young child enjoying happy dream. He looks so peaceful. There's nothing I can do to help him, but I show my respects by not disturbing him from his final resting place before turning away.

The decimated corpse that I reach next can only be recognised as Remora because there's nobody else that it could be. The blood pool is many metres wide, and there's barely more than a square inch of skin intact in any one place. Even for a Career, this is incredibly brutal. And this was Maddie's handiwork. I've known how unforgiving she was for years, but I never imagined she would go this far. I'm slightly disgusted, but really I know that I should feel nothing. Thinking of Maddie will now lead to nothing but pain. As for Remora, I feel next to nothing. Of the original seven members of the Career Alliance, she was the one that I spent the least time with. I know that she had a ruthless streak, but she was always polite (although I wouldn't say that she was ever friendly) towards me in the arena. I can't make my mind up about her, and leave her corpse behind before I do.

I head away from the cornucopia to the body of my strongest ally in the arena. Robin Hurst, the boy from District 1. Only sixteen. He'll never reach his seventeenth birthday.

He lies motionless on the floor, Quintus' arrow still stuck in his throat. Without Robin, I would now be dead. Without Robin, I would never have had the courage to abandon some of my fellow Careers. If I hadn't abandoned the Careers, my fate might have been even worse than Remora. I shudder involuntarily as I remember her decimated corpse. But she wasn't the only one.

I remember Pearl, betrayed by her district partner, only a few hours ago.

I remember Sophia, the late entry to the Career Alliance, who provided District 12 a glimmer of hope before the Capitol's mutts ended it all.

I remember Isabella, the girl from Seven who I saved on the second night in the arena. I still don't know how she died.

I remember Blaine, Isabella's brother, a victim of the lava lake at the cornucopia.

I remember the nameless boy from District 9, who shared Blaine's fate.

I remember the equally nameless girl from Eleven, who I killed mercilessly at the bloodbath. I knew that the shame would arrive one day, and today is that day. I hate myself for it. I know she will never leave me.

I remember the girl from District 10, who I downed to give Robin a kill at the cornucopia bloodbath.

I remember the boy from District 3, who we hunted on the first night.

I remember the boy from District 6, who was shot by Sophia shortly after his foiled attempt on my life.

I remember the girl from Five, who I killed with collateral damage during my fight with District 6. I hadn't even realised until now that she was my kill. Another face that I'll never forget.

But most of all, I remember Maddie. Who she was, and who we might have been.

The thunderous voice of Claudius Templesmith rouses me from my daydreams.

"Ladies and gentlemen, my I present to you the victor of the Sixty-sixth Hunger Games! I give to you the boy from District 4- Ludovic Robertson!"

I can hear the live reaction of crowds from the Capitol. It's actually over. After eight days, I've won. A hovercraft appears overhead and drops a ladder down to me.

I turn back to Robin's body, which is still at my feet. I rest his hands over his chest, grasping his bow. Then I slowly close his eyes and murmur my words of farewell.

"Goodbye, Robin," I say under my breath. "Thanks for everything."

Then I turn and grasp the ladder, and I feel the electric current lock me in place, just as it did on the hovercraft that brought me here. As I'm lifted from the arena, I never look back. I want as little memories of this place as possible.  
As I arrive in the hovercraft, I immediately feel uncomfortable. Everything is such a bright white that I'm dazzled for a few seconds, and once sight returns, I'm swarmed by Capitol medics. I'm asked all sorts of questions, like whether I'm in pain (I mean really, look at my leg?) or whether I'm having difficulty thinking straight.

I'm led into a second room, in which I find myself the focus of many medics, who instantly attend to the slash in my thigh. I'm directed over to some medical equipment but stop with a start when I see my reflection in a mirror on the wall.

My whole body looks ruined. My usually-straight mop of blonde hair is a tangled mess. My face, no, _all_ my skin is tinged red, covered in the tiny burns from the sandstorm, and all of it feels painful to touch due to the tiny cuts from the sand. Although I only spent eight days in the arena, I seem as though I've lost weight. Not a lot, but I'm definitely thinner than I was two weeks ago. Even with the Careers' supplies, the arena has taken its toll on me. Nobody escapes it without damage. Only my blue eyes show any-resemblance to my former self, although the spark that I see no longer appears excitable, it appears frenzied.

Then I feel a needle enter my right forearm, and the world blacks out.

* * *

I wake up in a small, unfurnished room, glowing yellow with man-made light. Everything is silent, so I know I'm no longer on the hovercraft. There is no tell-tale hum of the engines. This is somewhere in the Capitol.

I slip off my bed onto the cold floor. It's only now that I realise that I'm naked. I stand up to look around the room. There is a mirror on the far wall, and for the second time in as many minutes (that I have a recollection of) I'm startled by my own appearance.

My skin has returned to a pale tone, the arena's burns have been cleared. My body is still skinny, and it will take me a few weeks to regain the weight that I lost. But I was never overweight, so I doubt it'll be hard. Looking down at my hands, all scratches and scars are gone. Then I look past my hand and down to my leg- my leg! The knife wounds are gone. Completely. I can't quite believe they managed to rescue it. I guess I got treatment just in time. My whole body seems to have been returned to a perfect state. Not that I'm complaining. I bet the Capitol surgeons who put me back together were tempted to modify me, like they did Enobaria, but they seem to have left me alone.  
I turn back towards my bed, which is really just a padded shelf with sheets on, notice the clothes left for me at the foot of my bed.

Khaki. I disliked the colour before the games, but now I openly despise it. It will remind me of the arena for evermore. I walk away from the outfit, as though it is as lethal as the arena itself, until I remind myself that Victors always wear their arena costumes to greet their support teams again. The reunion is always a compulsory viewing. The clothes only mean one thing to me now; I get to see Finnick again.

Hurriedly, I dress in the clothes assigned to me. They feel extremely comfortable, probably because I'm so used to wearing them. But soon I'll be rid of them forever, thankfully. Any reminders of the arena need to go.

I'd guess, judging by the condition of my body, at least a week has passed since I left the arena. At home, all of District 4 will be frantically organising our homecoming celebrations. I remember the rush to prepare for Finnick's return last year. I remember I spent that evening with Maddie and Finnick, wading in the sea. Finnick wanted nothing more than to see the waves again upon his return. I'm not even going to think about going home yet. The Hunger Games won't be behind me until the final celebrations are out the way.

Somewhere in the Capitol, Julia will be designing my costume for the final interviews, and Finnick will be preparing to ready me for it. Flavius will be organising the Victor's Banquet, where I will meet the sponsors who supported me when I was in the arena.

Suddenly the wall behind me slides open, revealing a long corridor. This is it. I'm going to see Finnick again. There's a long chamber at the other end of the hall, and I can make out three figures. I try to keep my composure and walk slowly towards them, but when I look straight into those sea green eyes, I can't help but break into a run.

I literally leap into Finnick's arms, and we end up on rolling around on the floor, laughing as we do. Only once we regain our composure does Finnick speak.

"Great job, Ludo!" he exclaims.

"I guess," I say, keen to appear in control. "Well, this was all part of the plan, wasn't it?" I laugh.

Then Julia and Flavius pull us to our feet, and after more embraces and greetings, I'm led away to an elevator, and I'm surprised when we rise to the fourth floor of the Training Centre. My temporary home. I'll be glad to see the back of it.

Then I'm mobbed by my prep team, who seem overjoyed to meet me again. I spend the next four hours trying to blank out their silly Capitol small-talk. Finally, they have no more lotions and creams to rub on me, and I'm directed to Julia.

"Congratulations," she smiles, as I enter the sitting room, where she is sat on a sofa. I sit down opposite her, desperate to be told exactly what's going on.

"Just before you start," I say hastily, making sure I get the first word in. "What day is it? How long have I been out? What's happening now?"

Julia laughs as she replies. "Today is Tuesday, August 7th."

Wow, it's only a month until I'm sixteen. That sounds really old to me. But I've seen more in the last month than most people would in a lifetime. Mentally, I'm more mature than anyone in my supporting team. Except maybe not Finnick. Both of us have been through hell and back.

"Tonight is the Victor's Ceremony," continues Julia. "It starts in two and a half hours, and I need to get you prepared. Follow me," she says, leading me into what was my bedroom before the Games. She spends the next two hours dressing and styling me, ready for my first on-stage appearance since the arena. I find myself in a simple outfit yet again; formality has been a speciality for Julia this year. I'm in a formal white shirt, with black trousers held up with a sturdy belt, with the outfit completed by a pair of black leather shoes. Simple yet effective. As per usual.  
When the time comes, I take the elevator down into the basement of the Training Centre, as we will rise onto the stage from below. Julia and my prep team ride the elevator with me; this is their moment of fame, too.

Once we're under the stage, Julia and the prep team change into their ceremony costumes. Flavius and Finnick enter, congratulating the rest of the support team on their work this year. Then, one by one, they leave until only me and Finnick remain.

The area under the stage that I have been assigned is small and crudely designed, but it is all that it ever needs to be. It will never be shown off to the public. The metal plate that will lift me onto the stage stands out in the centre of the room. I don't like it; it reminds me of the plate that lifted me into the arena for the Games. Looking around, this whole room reminds me of the launch room under the arena. Crudely designed and claustrophobic. I just want to be out of here.

"This is your night, Ludo," says Finnick quietly. "Try to enjoy it."

I turn to face him.

"I'll try," I say, smiling. I have to admit, I'm slightly nervous about returning to the stage. This time, everyone will be calling my name.

"Make sure you're prepared for the highlights," Finnick warns me.

I'm stunned by Finnick's words. I'd completely forgotten about the three-hour highlights of the Games that I will have to watch. Having only just recovered physically from the arena, I'm in no position to watch this. Mentally, I don't think I can stand watching twenty-three children (most of whom I knew rather well) die. But stand it, I must. I must try to remain strong.

I can tell by the way Finnick watches me that he knows I will struggle.

"I know it's hard," he said. "I struggled to watch myself kill seven people."

Damn. I'd forgotten that. Not only do I watch twenty-three die, but I watch myself kill three personally. I'm not ready for this at all.

Then the Capitol anthem booms down from the stage. The show has begun. I can hear the legendary voice of Caesar Flickermann greeting the audience.

"I should go," says Finnick. "Good luck, Ludo."

"Thanks," I reply, trying to sound confident.

Finnick walks to the door, before stopping and running back over to me.

"I almost forgot," he says, pulling something out of his pocket. "Here."

Finnick holds out something small in the palm of his hand to me. It's his silver brooch; my district token.

"Thanks," I reply. Finnick turns and leaves without saying another word, closing the door behind him.

With Finnick gone, there is nothing to do but stand on my metal plate, listening to the applause as my prep team is introduced to the Capitol audience. Nerves are threatening to overwhelm me, but as the show continues, I find that I'm desperate to get on with it. Often in life, nerves are worse than the actual event. Hopefully today will be one of those days.

Sadly, there is nothing I can do but wait my turn.

* * *

**A/N: Just four chapters to go! Sorry about the slight delay in getting this chapter uploaded, I've had other projects on the go. I've become involved in a collaboration story, called 'It's All In Their Hands', organised by 24Authors24Tributes :) We still need a couple more authors before we can start writing, but that story will soon be underway, so (once it is!) I'd reccomend checking that out :)**

**As ever, please review if you enjoyed this chapter :)**


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

**POV: Ludovic Robertson (15), Hunger Games Victor**

**The City Circle, The Capitol**

**9.10 pm, Tuesday 7th August, year of the 66th Hunger Games**

* * *

Shortly after the prep team, Flavius is introduced. I have a good idea of what he's like on stage. Last year, during Finnick's celebrations, he was verging on delirious. No doubt he will be similar this year. Then again, this is the reason why he became an escort. So that he could reap the glory, when the opportunity comes around.

Next up is my stylist, Julia. Being one of the more popular stylists (and being successful enough to represent a Career district), she receives rapturous applause. But even this is nothing compared to the thunderous cheers as Finnick takes the stage. He's managed a first; he's the first mentor to guide a tribute to victory in their first year as mentor, and also the youngest victorious mentor, at fifteen years and three months, by over four years. When his ten minutes of fame have passed, I vaguely hear Flickermann introduce me, and I feel my plate raise me onto the stage.

Dazzled by the lights and deafened by the noise, I stagger towards centre stage as I regain my senses.

The City Circle is packed. Hundreds of thousands of people, as far as the eye can see. All cheering my name. I forgive myself for being self-centred as I warm inside when I realise that all these people are cheering for me.

Caesar Flickermann is gesturing me towards the ornate Victor's Chair, which could almost be classed as a throne. This year, just as it was last year, the chair is upholstered in sky-blue velvet. The colour of District 4.

As I follow his instructions and take my seat, the crowd go wild again. I can't help but smile. Then I remember why I'm here, and I feel no joy; only guilt remains.

Caesar reins in the crowd by telling a few jokes, and then the City Circle falls into silence as the Capitol seal appears on the screen around the City Circle. The lights dim and the anthem starts. The highlights are about to begin.

I can remember the highlights of previous years. It's a required viewing all across Panem. Exactly three hours long. For three hours, I will have to face watching my twenty-three fellow tributes die. I'm totally unprepared for this, and I'm actually scared. I know that this will be tough for me emotionally, and I really, really don't want to show myself up in front of the whole nation. For the next three hours, I must relive my nightmares, with no way of waking up. I remember how previous Victors have reacted. Their reaction is always shown during the highlights in a box in the top corner of the screen. Some gloat, others watch in silence. Some seem stunned, others break down in tears. I will not brag or gloat, but I won't cry either. I won't be seen as a weak Victor. I remember one of our Victors, a lad called Julian. He appeared completely calm, but for a smug smile as he watched himself gain the final kill. Yeah, I want to appear like Julian.

It's a hard job, condensing twenty-three days into three hours, and each year the filmmakers have to include what footage to include in order to portray a story of the Games. This year, the theme seems to be one of rivals, traitors and deceit. Right from the start, the attention seems to be spread. Of course, being the Victor, a disproportionate amount of time is spent on me, but Robin and Quintus feature just as prominently as I do.

The first half-hour focuses on the Reapings and pre-Games activities. The first thing we see is the District 1 escort calling the name of a young girl called Satin, before a much more muscular girl pushes forward determinedly to volunteer. Pearl. Then comes Robin. Then Remora and Quintus. District 3 is skipped over aside from a quick face-shot, and my Reaping receives more detail than any other. I find myself blushing as I watch myself collapse on the stage when I found out Finnick was to be my mentor. In the end, it turned out to be a lucky pick. I doubt many of the other Victors would know what to do with me as much as Finnick does. If I'm honest, I doubt anyone does.

Most of the other districts are skimmed through, with little focus on anyone. There is an exception with District 12, where we get to watch Sophia Mellark get culled from the eighteen-year-olds section.

We see a full list of the training scores. I find out that the girl that I killed at the cornucopia only scored four; she never stood a chance. I should have shown her mercy, at the very least. But I didn't.

Then the bloodbath begins, and I find that I'm watching myself kill the poor girl for real. I have to look away as District 9 pulls Blaine into the lava. It's been haunting me ever since it happened, and I don't want another reminder of it. I see the girl from District 10 die at my feet, and I watch Quintus mercilessly killing with his sword. Then I see Maddie sparing Sophia at our orders.

After watching the same kills from what felt like a billion angles, the coverage of the bloodbath ends. For much of the early stages of the Games, the coverage is all of Robin and Quintus. Their attempts at alliances, starting with Robin getting Sophia on his side. The mercy killing of the boy from Three on the first night. Of course, I'm still a focus, and my bonding with both Maddie and Sophia is picked up on by the filmmakers, and my conversations with them are played in full. I watch myself spare Isabella Maguire, and the Hurst-Cato rivalry has reached breaking point in the second storyline.

I watch Robin shoot Quintus after Robin's mercy killing of the boy from District 10. Quintus would never have allowed him mercy; District 10 had already injured Remora with his knives.

Then comes our escape, and the start of the alliance rivalry. Me and Sophia are shown spying on the Career camp, and I force myself to look away during my fight with the boy from Six. I turn my head in embarrassment at the delirious things I say as Sophia tries to nurse me back to life, before I pass out. I never realised quite how close I was to death. I owe Sophia more than I ever imagined.

The next three days pass quickly, until the mutt attack. Then Sophia's death is shown in full, including me kneeling beside her as she died.

We watch Robin sprint for the lake to escape the tracker jackers, and how he survives the seventh night solo.  
Isabella's death is next, a gruesome, bloody one, courtesy of Pearl and Remora. Finally, they got a chance to show off their knife skills. I can barely keep watching; I'm absolutely disgusted. Maybe if I had killed Isabella myself, it would have been better for her. Certainly she wouldn't have had to face the sadistic duo.

Then Pearl and Remora ambush us, and the chase through the woods is shown in full. The audience are really getting into the programme, and they 'Ooh!' and 'Ahh!' at all the right points as I run into a tree. Then I'm fighting Pearl, an just when everything seems to be over for me, Robin returns to save me.

Then comes the sandstorm, and the battle at the cornucopia for the chance to go home. Everything from the moment Robin dies to the moment that I rise from Maddie's dead body is shown in real time. This is hardest to watch. All four deaths are their own special kind of horrible. Robin was dead so suddenly, I never even had a chance to save him. Maddie's murder of Remora was so brutal that I have to look away. It's even worse than I could have imagined from the corpse. I killed Quintus myself, so I find his death unbearable. And Maddie, well, there's nothing I can say about that. I lost a true friend. No other details matter anymore.

The footage ends with a fade out as I rise to stand over Maddie's corpse and slowly walk away. I sit stunned and hurt for a few moments, contemplating my actions in the arena. As horrid as it was, I'll get over it. Hopefully. Faced with the choice, I would choose mental agony over physical pain. Maybe I might think differently in a few years. For the remainder of my life, I'm a murderer.

Then the anthem sounds again, and President Coriolanus Snow himself takes to the stage, followed by a young boy holding a sky-blue cushion, on which rests my golden Victor's crown. Then Snow picks up the crown and walks over to me. I rise from the Victor's chair and I can see that the crown is simple in design, and has the number '66' carved into the front. Nobody will ever forget what year I won with this.

The President and I exchange glances as I receive the crown. As Presidents go, I think there's been worse. The President during the first few Hunger Games, Shawcross, was cold and unforgiving. Snow seems less so. Not kind, not by a long way, but with more compassion than his predecessors. Still, this doesn't stop me from hating him.

Then he takes my hand and we raise our arms high as we walk to the front of the stage to greet the crowd. The response from the Capitol citizens is so frenzied that I have to shut my eyes to check if it's real.

Then after a large amount of bows and waving, mostly accompanied by Finnick, Caesar Flickermann closes the event and I am quickly taken to President Snow's mansion, where I am to attend the Victory Banquet.

Once I arrive, most of the first hour becomes a blur, as I'm whisked about from place to place, frantically meeting and greeting all sorts of men and women from the Capitol. Some, such as a few of our exceedingly generous sponsors, just want to be photographed with the winning tribute. Others want a full account of the arena. I try to entertain my sponsors, but after about forty-five minutes, I'm tiring. Then Finnick appears beside me and pulls me away from the sponsors to a group of people in a quiet corner of the banquet hall.

Once more, I'm surrounded by excited men and women, desperate to hear my story. But this time, I'm more co-operative. After all, these people are just like me.

In front of me stand a collection of previous Victors, and for the first time, I feel at home in the Capitol. Welcomed with open arms by others who actually know what it feels like to go through the arena. A lot of the older Victors don't make the journey, but most of those that do are here.

I receive a firm hug from a tall, muscular, fair-haired young man, who I know as Gloss, the boy who won the Games the year before Finnick. He was only sixteen then, so I guess he's now eighteen. He seems pleased to meet me, but then he moves away to talk to Finnick. I'm then quickly introduced to over thirty Victors, many of whom I recognise, either from watching the highlights of their Games on TV or because they won their Games in the last ten years. I remember all the Games since the 57th (when I was 6) clearly. Next to greet me is Wiress, a woman from District 3 who won the games around the year I was born. Then comes Chaff, a man aged around forty from District 11, who only has one arm. No doubt an arena injury. I've no idea how he attained it, though. I don't think I've ever seen highlights of his Games.

After Chaff, there is Auriel, a twenty-six-year-old who has devoted his post-Games life to running District 4's Training Centre. After winning the 58th Games, he became District 4's first Victor since the Second Quarter Quell.

Then there is the Quell Victor, Haymitch Abernathy of District 12. He's slightly drunk, and his embrace seems more earnest than most of the others. I've only seen his Games once, and it seems as though he had it worse than the rest of us. No wonder he turned to drink to drown his sorrows.

Most of the others go by in a blur. Luke. Enobaria. Cecelia. Harrow. Holly. Woof. Alexander. Lyme. Mags. Piotr. Draco. Cashmere. Harvey. Toby. Ellis. Blight. Seeder. Beetee. Marcel.

When I step away from greeting the final Victor present, Paula Underhill of District 6, I notice that Finnick, Gloss and Haymitch are missing. I make small talk with Cashmere, Gloss' twin sister, until they return, laden with alcohols.

"What have we got those for?" I ask, gesturing at the spirits in Finnick's hands.

"The usual," chortles Chaff, gaining a round of laughs from the others.

"What's that?"

"It's sort of an initiation," explains Draco, a tall, burly ex-Career from District 2. "To our group."

"What group?" I ask as Haymitch offers round small glasses amongst the Victors.

"The group of Victors, of course!" says Luke, a relatively small man his mid-thirties, who hails from District 5.

"You ever had alcohol before?" asks Enobaria, a young woman in her early twenties. She won the 62nd Games when she was seventeen, and I know that she is one of the brutal tributes the Hunger Games have ever seen.

"I've had a little wine," I say. "But I'm not much of a fan."

"Well, you're in for a rough night, kid," says Haymitch gruffly, handing me a glass.

"So what's actually going on?" I ask, feeling slightly confused.

"Here's the deal, Ludo," explains Woof, an old man from Eight. "Everyone is no longer innocent. We have all killed." this gets a murmur of assent around the group. "This 'initiation' gets rid of any last shred of innocence you might have."

"So we all get drunk?" I ask, slightly nervous.

Gloss laughs.

"Essentially, yes," he says. "But there's a twist."

"What twist I ask?" as Haymitch fills up my glass with a clear liquor. "And what is this anyway?"

"Vodka," he replies. "High quality alcohol."

"Much better than your crap from Twelve, isn't it?" jokes Chaff.

"Just a bit," Haymitch laughs in reply. "Haven't I always said that half the reason I mentor is for the free alcohol?"

"So what about this twist?" I ask again. This time, Ellis, a middle-aged man from District 6, answers me.

"It's simple, really," he says. "Each year, we each have one shot for each kill that the new Victor made in the arena."

I look down at the small glass in my hand, full of intoxicating spirits. In the next hour or so, I'm going to have to drink four of them.

"I'm a little disappointed you only managed four kills, kid," says Haymitch. "I was hoping for more. Your pal Odair here had to down seven shots last year."

"Be grateful it wasn't two," I say in reply. Looking round the group, everyone but Mags, Beetee and Woof have drinks.

"Why aren't you drinking?" I ask them.

"We did, in our youth," says Beetee nostalgically. "But we're too old for it now. It's meant for the younger tributes, anyway."

Beetee has a point. Nearly all the younger tributes seem eager, at least. For them, this is just a crazy party; an excuse to get drunk. Maybe that was why this tradition started.

"I stopped after Brutus' year," says Mags. "Fifteen shots nearly killed me."

"Enjoy yourself, kid," says Woof, ushering me over to the centre of the group of Victors.

"When do we start?" I ask, eager to get this night over with.

"In a few minutes," says Gloss. "We're still missing someone."

As if on cue, that someone arrives. The whole banquet hall fades to near silence out of respect as an old man walks slowly down the steps into the hall. The crowds part as he walks through. He looks very old, but not fragile, more like a seasoned war veteran. He walks slowly but without aid, and he seems determined yet sombre.

It takes me a minute to place him, but many, many summers have passed since he won his Games. This is Amadeus Hadrianus Cato, Victor of the 8th Annual Hunger Games. His muscles may have lessened and his stand-out crop of bright blonde hair might now show wisps of grey, but his bright blue eyes haven't aged since the year he wiped out the whole field in a day. In the sole death recap of Amadeus' Games, there were nineteen faces in the sky. He is the greatest Victor that has ever lived. No wonder he gains so much respect from Capitol citizens. He gives me a half smile as he approaches, and his hand seems remarkably sturdy for a man of seventy-six. After we shake hands, everyone in the room returns to the party, and the usual background noise resumes.

"Well done, Robertson," he says, with a little less enthusiasm than I'm used to seeing from him on camera. Maybe because all the footage of him is over fifty years old.

"Where's your son, Cato?" asks Draco, concerned.

"Who, Brutus?" asks, a sad smile on his face. He waits for nods from the crowd "He couldn't make it this year. He's still in mourning."

In mourning? Why would Brutus, of all people, be in mourning? Along with his father, Brutus Severus Cato is one of the most feared and respected Victors in all of Panem. While Amadeus has the record for the fastest Victor, having killed the final tribute after just under twenty-two hours, Brutus holds the record for most individual kills at fifteen. Between them, they are the most powerful of all of us. No doubt they will want the Cato legacy to continue.

And then it hits me.

_"My father was in this place once,"_ Quintus had told me as we faced off on the final day in the arena. _"And I am here to follow in the family footsteps."_

Those were the words of Quintus Licinius Cato. He was meant to carry on the Cato legacy. But I stopped him. It takes me a moment to realise how significant my achievement is. I actually killed a Cato. For two Hunger Games, this has never happened. And I ended the wining streak. No wonder Brutus isn't here. He has lost his eldest son.

At least this explains a few things. No wonder Quintus wanted to be referred to as Cato. He wanted people to fear his name, as they do Amadeus and Brutus. I'm amazed I never made the connection before. And suddenly I feel guilty as I look up at the old man in front of me.

Looking into his blue eyes, they remind me so much of Quintus' eyes as my sword ran through him. It hurts so much that I have to look away.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly, fully meaning my apology. "About your grandson."

Amadeus sighs and smiles sadly at me before answering.

"There's no need to apologise, boy," he says softly, showing a sense of compassion that I didn't know Careers could show. "He knew what he was getting into, and he wasn't good enough for it. I never pushed him to enter the Games, but my son did. But don't apologise. You deserved to win. None of us got here by accident, you know."

Amadeus is right. If I can outlast Quintus in the arena, I deserve to live in his place. No doubt the other Victors all agree. Morals don't matter in the arena. All that matters is who is the last alive, regardless of their motives or how they became the sole survivor. After all, in the Hunger Games, nice guys finish last.

"Can we get back to the alcohol?" jokes Chaff impatiently. "I would actually like do get drunk tonight!"

"Very well," sighs Amadeus. "Pour me some, Abernathy."


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

**POV: Ludovic Robertson (15), Hunger Games Victor**

**Floor 4, The Training Centre, The Capitol**

**7.30 am, Wednesday 8th August, year of the 66th Hunger Games**

* * *

I'm woken early by Flavius, who tells me from the other side of the bedroom door that I've got an hour to get ready for the final interview. Today I go home.

I already know that it will take most of this hour and probably some of the rest. My head is throbbing, I ache all over and I feel extremely lethargic. _Never again,_ I think. _No more alcohol from now on._

It takes me ten minutes to coax myself out of bed, and decide to run a cold shower to wake me up. Sadly, in the three weeks since I was last in this room, on the fourth floor of the Training Centre, I've forgotten how to get desirable settings from the shower. Or maybe the alcohol hasn't fully worn off yet. It really could be either reason.

After about five minutes, I get a tolerable setting from the shower. As I slowly wash myself, I think about the events of the previous night.

After the drink started flowing, my memories of the Victory Banquet become a blur. I remember spending a lot of the evening with Gloss, some sort of crazy dance on the dancefloor (I don't even know what that might have been) and, of course, the vodka. At some point, I vaguely remember Finnick being whisked away by President Snow, but I don't remember where to. I don't really want to think about it now, either. Even thinking hurts.

I manage to get into a plain white t-shirt, and pull on some trousers made of the material that I now know to be called denim before heading to the dining room for breakfast.

Only Flavius is there as I arrive, eating a round of toast. I don't feel hungry, so I pour myself a glass of orange juice. Either I ate loads at the party last night without realising it, or the alcohol has taken away my appetite.

"It's your last day here," says Flavius as I take a seat next to him.

"What're we doing this morning then?"

"Preparation for your final interview," says Flavius. "You'll spend the morning with Julia and the prep team."

"Will Finnick be helping me?" I ask.

"Not today," replies Flavius. "You don't need any more interview training. You'll cope fine on your own."

"Where is Finnick, anyway?" I ask. It's unusual for Finnick to wake later than me.

"He took off somewhere after the party," Flavius explains. "He said he wouldn't be back until the morning."

"Did he say where he went?" I ask, but before Flavius can reply, my prep team burst in and drag me away.

I spend the next two hours being attended to by my prep team. It seems pointless to me; it was only yesterday when I last went through all of this. Finally they leave me be, and Julia comes to dress me for my interview. Yet again, her trademark simplicity is shown today, and I find myself in an almost identical outfit to last night, with the only major difference being that the colour of the shirt has changed from white to sky blue.

I'm then the short distance from my bedroom to the sitting room, where the interview will take place. As I walk in, it feels odd, as all but two of the chairs have been moved to the side of the room and several cameras have been installed. Aside from the three cameramen, there are only four of us in the room; me, Julia, Finnick and Caesar Flickermann.

Finnick and Caesar are making small talk, and as I walk over to them, Caesar comes forward to shake my hand.

"Congratulations, Ludo," he says remembering my nickname. "Are you prepared for the interview?"

I shrug my shoulders in reply.

"I guess so. I'm a little nervous, though."

"Why's that?" asks Finnick.

"Because I have to talk for so much longer than last time," I reply.

"There's no need for concern," says Caesar, reassuring me. "If you answer all the questions truthfully, you'll never run out of things to say."

Then he gives me a reassuring pat on the back, and gestures me towards one of the two leather chairs in the centre of the room. The interview is about to start. Finnick and Julia retreat to behind the cameras, and then one of the cameramen is counting backwards. We are going live.

Caesar introduces the interview as confidently as ever, and the first few minutes are barely taxing at all. Simple questions that require either yes or no, and little else in terms of answering. Only once the interview is inevitably steered in the direction of the Games do the questions become harder to answer, and with it the uneasiness returns.

"How did you feel, after watching the other Reapings?" asks Caesar. "Did you feel threatened by anyone?"

"Understandably, I was worried about the other Careers, but nobody stood out at that stage."

"What about District 2's Quintus. Surely being the son and grandson of two legendary Victors would have made him grab your attention?"

If I'm being honest, I didn't even make the connection until last night, by which stage Quintus was long dead. But in the interview, I have to appear on top.

"A name doesn't matter to me. He would be no more threatening if his name was Frank rather than Cato."

Caesar clearly didn't expect my answer, and tries test me, to see if I have any fear of the Cato family.

"What about when Quintus died? Tell me, what was running through your head when you killed him?"

I can't tell him my first thought. It doesn't bode well with the audience for Victors to admit to regretting their actions. What I _do_ tell him is a partial truth. It was what I was thinking of once I had gotten over the shock that I had killed again.

"At the time, I was only thinking of how I could help Maddie," I reply confidently.

At this point, Caesar pounces upon the opportunity to ask me about me district partner.

"And what of young Madelaine? What made you want to help her so?" Caesar asks curiously.

"We've been friends for a while," I say bluntly. I don't want to talk about Maddie. Especially not in front of all these people. What happened to her is a very personal matter for me. It is a matter that I will contemplate in my own time, back home in the safety of District 4. But Caesar suspects the audience want to know more.

"For how long?" asks Caesar.

"Years," a say quickly. "I've known her since I was six or seven."

"And you have been friends since then?"

"Pretty much," I reply. "We've both been good friends with Finnick for years, too."

Excellent. Mentioning Finnick takes the attention away from Maddie and onto my mentor, and of how the odds have not been in our favour for the past three Reapings.

Before I know it, the half-hour of the final interview has passed, and Caesar Flickermann signs us off, concluding the 66th Annual Hunger Games. It is over. For now. In five months' time, there is the Victory Tour, a second chance for the Capitol to remind the districts of its power, midway between the annual Games. To make sure the wounds stay fresh in the population's minds. But until then, it is all over. I can go home.

Finnick gives me a thumbs up as the cameras fade off, concluding the show. Then cheers go up all around, and I'm congratulated by everyone- Flavius, Caesar, Finnick, Julia, simply _everyone_- on a successful Hunger Games. I rush back to my room to collect my belongings, but only have my brooch to collect from the interview clothes as I change back into the t-shirt and denim trousers, which are much more comfortable. I then say my goodbyes to Julia and my prep team, wishing them well, and telling them that I look forward to their visit prior to the Victory Tour.

Then Flavius escorts me and Finnick back down the elevator, and then into a car with blacked-out windows that escorts us to the train station. We find Mags waiting for us on the train as we board. Even seeing her again is painful. She was Maddie's mentor, and she reminds me so much of my lost love. For many of the last few days that I spent with Maddie, Mags was nearly always by her side.

The train starts moving and we're plunged into blackness as we enter the tunnel as we leave the Capitol behinds us. Even until this point, part of me believed that I would never leave the Capitol. But now I know for sure that I have survived. Once tributes reach this stage, they have nothing to fear for in life. They are given a luxurious house in Victor's Village, and Capitol pays them enough money and food to last them a hundred lifetimes. After the arenas, Victors never want again. Except for me. I want Maddie to return. Even if it means returning to the arena, I want her by my side again. I hope the pain will lessen over time. If not, I'll be as broken as Haymitch before long.

Once the darkness of the tunnel is far behind us, I can see the pressure lift from Finnick's shoulders. He has done his job. He has kept me alive. Some of the old laughter is returning to his voice. The Finnick that is on display in the Capitol isn't really him, just a character he devised to win him sponsors in the arena. On camera, he shows the same seductiveness that won him hordes of sponsors last year. Off camera, he is quiet, thoughtful and serious, desperately trying to think of the best strategies to keep his tribute alive. Away from the Capitol, Finnick is happy and free. Where he belongs.

As the sun sets, a whole day after the Victory Banquet, my hunger begins to return. The four of us gorge ourselves on all the food that the Capitol train has to offer, taking advantage of the high quality food that won't be available to us again until the Victory Tour at the earliest.

As I lie in bed that night trying to drift off to sleep, I allow my thoughts to return to District 4 for the first time since the arena. In comparison to the Capitol, it might not be much, but it's home, and that's all that matters to me. It means a return to the old days. How I want life to return to those simple ways again. I know that some things will change, as Maddie will no longer be with us. I just hope that my time in the Capitol hasn't alienated me from my home.

It was tough for Finnick last year. During his Games, he neglected his partner. He never allied with her, and she died at his hand. It would be acceptable to kill your district partner if the final two tributes were from the same district, as there are no alternatives. However, Finnick killed his partner, whose name I have already forgotten, when they were only two of five still alive in the arena. Once he arrived home, he was jeered by the masses, and shunned by his peers at school. Aside from me and Maddie, who never left him, it took him months for anyone to regain his trust. The Games alienated him from his home, making his first few months after the Games hell for him.

Hopefully it won't be the same for me. There's no point worrying about it, though. After all, I'll find out in just a few hours.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

**POV: Ludovic Robertson (16), Hunger Games Victor**

**House 8, Victor's Village, District 4**

**8.00 am, Sunday 11th January, year of the 67th Hunger Games**

* * *

I wake to a cold bed, and try to wrap up in my covers for warmth. Sadly, the light is already beginning to filter through the curtains, and slowly I begin to realise that any attempt to sleep is futile. After fifteen minutes of motivation, I jump out of bed and slip on the same clothes that I wore yesterday. Then I make my way downstairs to the kitchen.

There's a fire roaring in the hearth, and I'm grateful for it. I come to realise that these houses in Victor's Village aren't well-prepared for the winter months. Too many draughts.

As I enter the kitchen, I find my father sorting out some of the cupboards. It's been a week since we entertained the ten other Victors for New Year, but the whole house is yet to be tidy.

"Hot chocolate?" he asks, looking up to me as I shut the thick oak door behind me.

I nod approval, and take a seat at the large wooden table in the centre of the room. After about three minutes, my father passes me a mug of a hot, thick, creamy liquid that I know to be hot chocolate. I grasp it with both hands, desperate to take some of its warmth.

As I sit sipping my hot chocolate, I stare out the window. Even though the snow is yet to fall this year, it is clear that last night was bitterly cold, as there is a thick layer of frost coating the cul-de-sac that is Victor's Village. The weak wintry sun shines down, reflecting strongly off of the ice. Outside, I can see Auriel and Harrow walk slowly towards their homes, huddled together for warmth. No doubt they've been for an early-morning trip into the town centre. I hope that not all the districts are as cold as this, for I leave today for the final ceremonies of the 66th Annual Hunger Games. The Victory Tour starts today.

In the five months since I returned home, it's been tough to get to where I am today. Ever since the train pulled to a halt at the station in District 4, everything seems to have been going against me.

The homecoming celebrations may have been spectacular, but they were marred with tragedy. I had thought it odd at first to see my father alone greeting me as I placed foot in District 4 for the first time in a month, but I didn't realise the full implications until my father explained at the feast that night.

My mother wouldn't be with us anymore. I was told that she passed away on my fourth night in the arena, when I was unconscious and reliant on Maddie and Sophia. Apparently the official cause of death was a heart attack. The doctors believe it was triggered by stress.

Thinking back, a regret I have is that even though I doubted that I was to see her again, I wish my words had been kinder the last time I saw her, on the day of the Reaping. I expected to shortly be dead myself, but I never imagined that she would be the one taken from me. The wound that her death gave me is as large as Maddie's.

But this is nothing compared to my father. He seems to have closed out the world after mother died. Despite initially agreeing that, at a month short of sixteen, I was capable of living alone in Victor's Village, within two weeks my father had moved in with me. He claimed the old house reminds him to much of mother. He must have loved her a lot if he wasn't able to cope with the memories. I'm amazed he's fine with me, his wife's son, being around.

He retired from his job and began his life as a recluse in Victor's Village, only travelling out for basic supplies once a fortnight. Even with my dad sharing them, my Victor's winnings are more than enough for both of us. Finance will never be an issue again.

For me, my homecoming ceremony meant a warm welcoming, and many people genuinely cheered me on, and others offered condolences for having to end Maddie's life. Most in the district who have children of school-going age knew how close we were.

Usually around the same time as the homecoming, District 4 hold public remembrance services to our fallen tributes. A public funeral, of sorts. It enraged both me and Finnick when we head late in the evening that we missed our chance to say our final farewell to Maddie.

After spending my first day at home getting used to my new residence, the first place that me and Finnick went to was the residence of Mr Harper, right in the centre of the docklands. Even if we couldn't make it public, both of us wanted to pay our final respects to Maddie.

Mr Harper was grateful and respectful to us, although he still hadn't recovered from the death of his eldest child. I couldn't blame him, though; I hadn't gotten over it, either. But we gave him a share of our Victor's winnings as a form of compensation; enough to let him and his two sons get by without Maddie's support for a couple of months, whilst Mr Harper finds alternate incomes for the family.

Even by my sixteenth birthday at the start of September, I was yet to be settled again. Having started the school year aged fifteen (albeit for just a week), I had one final year of compulsory education to complete.

After a year as an outcast, I try to get the crowds of boys to recognise Finnick once again. We were both murderers, locked into disturbed frames of mind, and I tried to return some normalcy to our lives after the traumas of the Games. Some of the boys, like Dennis Orman and Dylan Cresta, were won over immediately, and apologise for mistreating Finnick. Others, like Sean Weller and Martin Kerry, weren't keen on the idea at all.

Even with some of our year turning to our side, within a month it's clear that some of the older boys in the higher years see us as a threat. They might be the strongest at school, but they mean nothing in comparison to two Victors, whose ferocity and bloodlust is known across Panem.

I'm surprised we last a month before we're confronted by two eighteen-year-old thugs in the top year.

I look down at my belt. Even though I've only just risen from bed, the weight of the blade pressing into my thigh makes me feel secure. Since the arena, the constant paranoia has left me feeling open and insecure without possession of a weapon at all times. But back at school on that windy day in October, those thugs were never going to know that. No wonder they ended up pinned to the wall with knives held to their throats shortly after they tried to jump me and Finnick. That was our last day at school. They wouldn't let us return after that.

After two weeks of lounging around at home, I received my first phone call from the Capitol. I had almost forgotten that I now had a telephone installed, as after three months I'd never had to use it once.

It's Flavius who calls me, asking what plans I have for my talent. As Victors have enough money to never have to work again, they have eleven free months every year to fill. In order for the Capitol to see that Victors are doing something productive with their life aside from mentoring in the Hunger Games, Victors have to devote themselves to a certain talent.

Looking up from my now near-empty mug of hot chocolate, I can see an example of Finnick's talent pinned to our noticeboard that hangs on the wall next to the calendar. It's a draft of a poem that he sent me yesterday, as Finnick has turned his intelligence to poetry for his talent. I haven't had a chance to read his latest literary offering yet. I make a mental note to do so either.

Turning to face the window, I can see examples of my own talent. Having shown strengths with a knife, I thought that I should return to my original use for a knife, and chose wood carving as my talent. On the windowsill sit six or seven wooden birds; each of them between eight and ten inches tall. If I want the carvings to be detailed, I'd guess that I can finish one in just over a week.

As the skill was rusty when I took it up ten weeks ago, I think I've shown massive improvement. I'm especially proud of my latest two carvings; a kingfisher perched on a branch and a mockingjay in full flight.

As I down the remainder of my hot chocolate, I hear knocks on my door. Leaving my dad behind in the kitchen, I run down the hallway to answer the door.

As the doorway opens, I'm bombarded by my prep team, who burst in shouting words of greetings and congratulations.

The morning becomes a blur, and I quickly tune out the prep team, as I know there is little I can do to stop them from doing their job. I've even got to point that I don't even attempt to keep my privacy when they ask me to undress so that I can bathe in some Capitol concoction. I never win out, so why bother?

By mid-day, Julia has arrived. We make small-talk for a half-hour, about how I'm finding life since the Games. She listens intently, and although she is impressed by my fledgling talent for wood carving, she's utterly distraught at the fact that me and Finnick got excluded from school for drawing weapons on other students. From judging her reaction, I choose to skip out the fact that I always carry a seven-inch blade out of paranoia.

Then I'm dressed in, as per usual, simple yet effective winter clothing. A long, white fabric coat completes my simplistic outfit. It's not the warmest, but it looks the part. Viewing myself in the mirror, my appearance reminds me of my escort, Flavius. Then Julia passes me Finnick's silver brooch; my district token from the arena. I pin it to the front of my coat.

Shortly after I'm dressed, Finnick and Flavius arrive. They explain that today there will be little media attention. All the cameramen will need is a few shots of me travelling from Victor's Village to the station, and of me boarding the train to District 12, the first destination on my Victory Tour. The tour starts in Twelve and travels in descending district order to District 1, and then on to the Capitol. The Victor's district is always skipped and saved until last. In each district, there's a ceremony, where we receive lots of pointless gifts and false applause, and exquisite dinners, dining each evening with the important figures of each district. Apparently we even get a brief tour in some districts. And then we board a train for the next one.

The short walk from my house to the car takes about twenty seconds, and is apparently all the Capitol cameramen need to film, aside from a clip of our car leaving for the train station. I guess all they need is some footage showing the Capitol audience that the Victory Tour is now underway.

When I rise on the train the following morning, Flavius tells me that I will be turned over to my prep team for the whole day. Apparently the work they did yesterday was only good enough for the journey out of District 4. Before I reach District 12, it has to be done all again.

Feeling more raw than ever, we arrive in District 12 early the following morning. On their small, dingy station platform, there is only a two-man welcoming committee, which consists of the mayor, who is a relatively young man called Mr Undersee, and Haymitch Abernathy, District 12's sole living Victor.

Along with our two extra escorts, we are taken by car through District 12. It's clear that our suffering in District 4 pales in comparison to that of District 12. I can see poverty all around me. It's on the faces of the children. Small, thin children with straight black hair and olive skin. Small, starving children with the same hopeless look in their grey eyes. And I thought the docklands were bad. As we near the centre of the mining town that makes up District 12, I can see living conditions improve. The well-off in Twelve would pass for middle-class at home in Four. This must have been Sophia's home. Now the people I see milling around (the shop owners and merchants) are all Aryans. Just like her.

We arrive at the Justice Building without incident. Here, at least, there are similarities between Districts 4 and 12. The whole building reminds me of its District 4 equivalent, although it may not be as elaborately furnished.

Once we arrive in the Justice Building, we barely get five minutes to prepare ourselves before the anthem starts playing and we are led out onto the stage in front of District 12's town square. There's loud applause as me and my support team appear, but it seems much less earnest that the Capitol applause that I have grown used to. It even seems to unnerve me slightly.

Looking around the town square, this seems to be, by far, the nicest part of District 12 that I have encountered so far. No doubt it has been cleaned up for the cameras. The whole square is full of people, and in their appearance I can see the true story of the district. Grubby clothes, and sullen faces that look as though they never knew what hope was. All their lives, they have only known defeat.

I look to the front of the crowd, to a special platform that has been constructed below the stage for the families it the dead tributes, who stand separated on it.

The family of the boy from Twelve, Toni Fletcher, is small, and I feel little for them, as I felt for Toni himself during the Games last summer. However, I'm not prepared to meet the family of Sophia Mellark.

Nearly all her extended family are present, and find that I have a good idea who half of them are. I know that both Sophia's parents are dead, so I have good reason to believe that the eldest male is Sophia's brother Jonathan, the baker. He's tall, broad and seems strong, although he may have aged young. Although I know him to only be thirty years of age, he looks as though he could be pushing forty. The woman he has his arm linked with must be his wife.

Next to her is another boy, who appears even more beaten and weathered than his brother. This must be the younger of Sophia's brothers, whose name eludes me, who works as a foreman in the mines. No wonder he looks so beaten-up. The blonde-haired girl on his right looks so similar to Sophia that for a moment I thought that Sophia was standing in front of me. I know this young woman to be Sophia's elder sister, Grace. Aside from that, I know nothing about her.

Standing in front of Jonathan and hid wife are their children. All three share the same expression when I look into their innocent, ready eyes; all of them convey sorrow. The eldest, Ryan, keeps glancing over at Toni's family. I know he was close to the lad who died. The younger two look completely distraught; I can't remember the name of the elder of the two, but the youngest, Peeta, makes eye contact with me for a split second before I pull my eyes away. But even that split second tells me that all this is wrong. How old is he? Eight? Nine? Too young, either way. Too young to know of any of this.

Then I hear Mr Undersee begin a long speech in our honour. I'm amazed that District 12 keep their attention; I find it boring, and all the praise is directed at me. I'm then presented flowers and a plaque by young blonde girls (no doubt merchant's children), and Finnick is given a plaque to celebrate his position as a victorious mentor. Then I have my own speech to say, which is mainly a scripted reply which the Capitol sent to me a month before to learn. It is customary for Victors to make personal comments about the fallen tributes, if they knew them during the Games. Having not given this much thought until I arrived on stage, I respectfully thank District 12 for their tribute, Sophia Mellark, without whom I would not be alive. It sounds quite well-rehearsed, possibly even insincere. But considering it was improvised, I'm quite pleased with my personal comment. I make a mental note to think of personal comments before I take to the stage in District 11.

Then Mr Undersee takes control again to close the ceremony, and the anthem sounds once more as applause fills the town square. Then we take our leave and return to the Justice Building. I spend the afternoon with my prep team, who are adamant on making me stand out for the prestigious dinner taking place in the evening.

Then we find ourselves wrapped up in an evening of music, dance and food. Aside from a slight cultural shift, this is the same as Capitol parties. Only there is very little alcohol. I'm not tempted to drink alcohol anyway. After last year's Victory Banquet in the Capitol, I doubt I'll ever drink the stuff again.

We leave the party late in the evening and immediately return to the station to board a train. We spend the night on the train, and when I wake, we're only an hour from District 11. And so begins an apparently endless journey of ceremonies, dinners and train rides.

Some districts offer differences; for instance, we get a tour of the plantations in District 9, a tour of the power plants in District 5.

Others offer differences in terms of the ceremonies. I find myself disgusted by the ceremony procedure in Seven. The two fallen tributes from District 7, Blaine and Isabella Maguire, were siblings. But the Capitol order that, so that each tribute has a representative in the broadcast, that the parents stand separated in the ceremony, one representing each tribute. I'm completely appalled by the idea. As both parents stand alone, I can see that there were no other children in their family. Their entire bloodline was wiped out by this Hunger Games, and the two parents can't even witness the final farewell to their two children together? It's so sickening.

District 2 also sticks clearly in my mind. After all that occurred between Quintus and me, his grandfather seems to hold little against me. Sadly, the same cannon be said about the rest of his family. His son, Brutus, glares at me throughout the ceremony, making me feel uneasy.

I remember Quintus telling me of his little brother on the day he died. When I look down into the eyes of the youngest Cato, I only see the hatred and determination that is usually seen in a Career. But I know that the young lad looked up to Quintus. No doubt that when his time comes, he'll volunteer to prove himself to his family and his district. Looking at him, he's very muscular and already well over five feet tall, even though his facial features age him at no older than twelve. What year will he volunteer for the Games? Seventy-three? Seventy-four? Maybe even Quell year. Whenever it is, big things will become of this Cato. I'm sure of it.

In the Capitol, there is no ceremony; only one final interview with Caesar Flickermann in the City Circle. I remember little of the interview; only the anticipation of the party later in the evening.

The feast that night is massive, but it doesn't hold my attention for long. Yet again, I'm meeting and greeting many important Capitol citizens, but this time I stay sober long enough to actually have decent conversations with a few of the guests. Surprisingly, I find that I get on exceedingly well with one of the Gamemakers, a young chap called Horatio Thorpe. Early in the evening, I notice Finnick take his leave with some pretty young Capitol woman, but I don't think much of it.

We leave the Capitol late in the evening by train. We arrive in District 4 in mid-morning, ready for the final ceremony of a long and tiring Victory Tour. For once, people will be cheering my name, and genuinely care. Not even like the Capitol, but on a more personal level. The people of this district actually know me.

As I stand with Finnick in the Justice Building waiting to take to the stage in front of District 4, I realise how important this day is.

This is the last ceremony.

After this, I return to normalcy.

Nothing can go wrong now.

It's over.

I have survived the Hunger Games.

I just have time to give Finnick a bright, confident smile before walking onto stage, head held high, where we will be welcomed home as heroes.

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**A/N: Nearly there! After over three months of writing, only the epilogue remains! Please let me know what you think via review. As ever, constructive criticism is welcome :)**


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

**Epilogue**

**POV: Ludovic Robertson (24), Mentor for the Male Tribute, District 4**

**Floor 4, The Training Centre, The Capitol**

**6.25 am, Thursday 16th July, year of the 75th Hunger Games**

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_I hit the ground, and the harsh grit digs into my back and cuts me under my shoulder blades. My head hits the ground hard, leaving me senseless for a few moments before the pain pulsates through my body from my injured leg. Only then does the fear return, and with it comes the imminent threat of Quintus. I try to get to my feet and run, but my legs are rooted to the spot in fear and won't go anywhere. Quickly Quintus is upon me, his tall, athletic figure silhouetted by the sun. But I can still see the bow._

_Even though I'm paralysed with fear, I manage to force a small uttering as he trains his weapon on me._

_"Give Finnick my regards, will you?"_

_Quintus shrugs and smirks. I don't get the stall that I was hoping for. Only added pressure on the drawstring of his bow. Any second now, it will all be over. I'm unarmed with nowhere to go, ten metres from my murderer. I watch Quintus' face crease in concentration just before the cannon sounds._

_Both of us turn our heads towards the cornucopia and watch a beaten-up and tired Maddie rise to her feet, her sword coated in Remora's blood. I watch the brief look of surprise vanish from Quintus' face as he fires his last arrow into Maddie._

_And then I'm screaming... screaming..._ SCREAMING!

I jolt upright, sweat running from my forehead. My head is spinning, and it takes me a while to place where I am; the bedroom for the male tribute's mentor on the fourth floor of the Training Centre. In the dark, and after what I've just been through, I hate this small, confined space. And I detest these nightmares. Even after all these years, they still haunt me. Luckily I was spared Blaine's death tonight. I find his the most agonising to relive.

I hear a quiet, polite knock on my door. I guess I've been screaming again. I usually wake somebody up with my nightmares. I don't reply to the knocking on the door, but after a few seconds, whoever it is takes my silence as consent and slowly opens the door, allowing a small slither of light through into my room.

Silhouetted against the dim light of the corridor, I can already tell from the athletic physique that it is Finnick who has decided to pay me a visit. As he steps into the room, he turns on the light, dazzling me momentarily. Finnick pushes the door shut before sitting down at the foot of my bed, and I pull the bedsheets up around me, trying to conserve warmth.

Looking up at him, I can see that the years have fallen lightly on Finnick. It's been ten years to the month since his Games, and aside from a couple of inches, and, on a rough day, a little facial hair, the man in front of me is the same as the fourteen-year-old Victor. That same flirtatious look in his eyes that he plays for the camera, the same strong, athletic figure, the same winning smile. On the inside, though, he's a changed man. After years of playing the flirt for the Capitol, he almost subconsciously flits into that mode at times. It's as though the Capitol is slowly driving the real Finnick out of him. It's almost unbearable at times. I can tolerate his actions in the Capitol, but it sickens me to see him saunter flirtatiously through Victor's Village. It's just not right.

In reality, the years have been tough on both of us. Of the sixteen tributes that have entered the arena since I left it nine years ago, only two have made it back to District 4. And me and Finnick have mentored all fourteen fatalities. Some years, there has been success; others have been shambolic. Some have been down to luck rather than skill. Annie Cresta had everything go her way. Well, enough things to get her home. She's still just as broken as we are.

Some Games, even from the point of view of a mentor, have been gripping to watch. Though not for the right reasons. You don't want to take your eyes off the screen, for the fear that you might never see your tribute again. Seventy and Seventy-Two were the worst for this.

Other Games are just horrible to watch, however you spin it. Last year was the worst. Everything about it reminded me of my own Games.

From my first look at the arena, I knew that it was similar to my own. Largely woodland. I knew from then on it would bring back memories. No doubt about it.

Due to the survival of my own tribute, Gabriella, until the fourth day, I had been drawn into the Games by the time she was killed, a victim of a tracker jacker nest dropped by Katniss Everdeen, the high-scoring archer from District 12. Her archery almost paralleled Robin's.

With both Finnick's tribute and my own out of the Games early on, I have nothing to do for the next fortnight but relive my nightmares. Everything about these Games, the 74th, reminded me of my own.

The boy from District 1, Marvel, managed to bring back too many memories. He was brash, arrogant and violent.

Just like Pearl. And he died a victim of an arrow to the throat. Just as Robin did.

The eventual Victor of the Games was both a shock and a painful memory.

Sophia had once told me that she had pitied her nephews, young boys who were too gentle-natured to ever survive the Capitol's sadistic Games. From the moment that the name of Peeta Mellark, Sophia's nephew, was drawn from the Reaping bowl, I feared the worst.

_"Peeta will never win the Hunger Games,"_ Sophia had once told me, nine summers ago in the arena. How wrong she was.

However, she was right about one thing. Deep down, Peeta is a better person than the rest of us Victors. Only due to the Everdeen girl did he survive. She pulled him through, almost literally at times. And I'm so, so glad that she did. I don't think I could have lived with watching another Mellark die. The memories associated with it would be too strong.

However, the thing that I despised the most about the 74th Annual Hunger Games was when the plates rose into the arena and all of Panem saw a tall, muscular, fair-haired boy of eighteen representing District 2, raring to go. The replay of the Games held sixty-six years before were last shown a week before the Reaping, and I could clearly see that the boy, Sextus Aurelius Cato, brother of Quintus, is the spitting image of his grandfather.

And he was just as much of a killer, too.

I hated watching him throughout the Games. And I felt guilty when he died. If Quintus had made it out of the arena in my place, there would have been a good chance that Sextus would never have entered the arena. That Sextus would never have died, a slow, bloody, gruesome death at the hands of the Capitol's mutts. I felt guilty watching him die from behind a screen in the Games Headquarters.

I remember looking round the room at the fellow mentors. Many were in shock. Some, like District 7's Johanna Mason, didn't seem to care. Others, like Chaff and Haymitch, were jubilating. But Brutus looked distraught. And, for the first time, I felt for him. To lose a son must be devastating. The pain of losing both is unimaginable.

After the Games ended, it was easy to tell that control was falling. This girl, a starving young woman living in poverty in Panem's poorest district, has managed to publicly defy the Capitol on the biggest stage of all. If she can do it and live, what's stopping us?

It only took two months for anarchy to hit the streets of District 4. Two more, and rumour of revolution started to filter in again from elsewhere. Districts 3 and 8. The fire was catching.

Then came the peacekeepers. Order followed, and with it came punishment. But hope was never completely taken from us. Three months ago, the Quell announcement gave us all the energy to fight once again. But so far, we only plan our endeavours.

For years, there has been a group of anti-Capitol terrorists working to bring down the Capitol from inside. They first contacted me and Finnick when we were in our late teens, and we respectfully declined their advances. As much as we may hate the Capitol, we weren't yet ready to commit acts of terrorism. I thought the group had disbanded after the fiasco in which some of their leading members had been held responsible for the bomb plot during the 71st Games. But then, after the Quell announcement, we were approached again. With our lives already on the line, me and Finnick were willing to become a part of their plans. As have half the tributes for this year's Games.

It's obvious to me why the Victors are returning to the arena this year. So that the Capitol can silence Katniss Everdeen, the girl that the districts have been rallying behind. And so, this year we have a new aim; get Everdeen out alive. Finnick knows how much of a risk this is. But the consequences are too great. Either he dies rescuing Katniss from the arena or dies fighting for freedom in District 4. Either way, he wants to play a part in ensuring that the future generations don't have to suffer from some Snow-esque leader and his power. With Head Gamemaker Plutarch Heavensbee being the leader of our cause, there might even be the chance that more than one Victor can escape alive. But I'm not betting on it.

Assuming that Katniss will become the sole Victor, today is my last day with Finnick. Tomorrow will be the interviews, and the day will be surrendered to Finnick's prep team. Today will be my last day in his company.

Unlike when I thought this day would come nearly ten years ago, I'm neither scared nor upset. Ten years ago, we had not lived a life. All we knew was the innocence of youth.

Ten years later, as Finnick prepares to return to the arena once again, I can't think the same way. In our twenty-four years, me and Finnick have experienced more than anyone in Panem.

We have travelled to all twelve districts and seen the sights of the Capitol. We have grown into tall, strong, handsome young men who have outgrown their innocence. We have gambled and drunk alcohol. We have both loved and lost. I had Maddie and, well, Finnick will surely lose Annie.

_Oops. I need to stop thinking about that._ From the moment that I found out, Finnick made it clear that even thinking about it is a sin. It won't bode well with the Capitol audience if they find out that Finnick has a lover. At times I envied him for it, for everyone I love is long gone, but now I only feel pity. Finnick will never get to grow old with Annie.

But, aside from the gambling and the alcohol, the one thing that has changed us most is the arena. We are both murderers. If our actions had taken place out of the arena, we would have both faced the firing squad years ago. Because they did take place in the arena, we get to live on with some freedom. Not a lot, but more than the Capitol allow the rest of the population. But in reality, we are all slaves.

That is why Finnick is willing to die in the arena. Not for us; our lives are already ruined. But for the future generations. That is why Katniss Everdeen, the face of our rebellion, must leave the Quell arena alive.

"Did you just hear a word I said, Ludo?"

_Damn._ I had completely zoned out, and I can't remember a word of whatever Finnick just said. I'd better start listening soon, there'll be a time when I won't be able to hear that voice again. A check on the clock tells me it is half past six in the morning. I can almost count the number of hours we have left on my fingers. Suddenly I find that I don't want to spend any more minutes in this small bedroom. I want to spend them actually doing something with Finnick.

I quickly leap out of bed, catching Finnick by surprise. Startled, he jumps back and fall over, hitting his head against the chest of drawers as he falls into a crumpled heap on the floor. Then we're both laughing, and as our eyes meet through tears of laughter, I find that I'm dreading the moment when I will have to look away from those sea-green eyes, and never look back. Forever.

**Fin**

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**A/N: That's it! My first fanfic has come to an end! I'd like to thank anyone who has read the story for their continued support, especially to Richards25 and Vykktor, who (at the time of uploading this chapter) are my regular reviewers.**

**As for a sequel, work is underway, though it may take a few months to pull together.**

**Yet again, if you've enjoyed this story, please review. More than ever, constuctive criticism is welcome :)**


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